


The Joker

by IdaMirei



Category: Zorro (TV 1957)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Intrigue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdaMirei/pseuds/IdaMirei
Summary: If you are smart, bold and decisive, the world is yours. At least as long as you do not meet some black shadow on your path…
Kudos: 4





	1. Sheep and wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the commandante makes plans and the licenciado is anxious.  
> The storm is nearing.

The tavern's door crackled when the new visitor opened it stepping into the dim sala. As usual, he stood for a moment in the entrance, waiting for the gathered guest to notice his presence.

At first almost no one paid attention, only the people sitting by the tables nearest to the door cast quick glances in his direction – and immediately stopped their conversations. Their neighbors followed, one by one, and for a moment an uncomfortable silence took the place of the usual cozy rumble of the only tavern in the pueblo of Los Angeles.

Most of the people welcomed the newcomer with more or less polite bows, yet quickly turning their eyes away. No one invited him to their company and no one stood up to approach him with the friendly talk.

The man only smirked with indulgence. Sure, he would never win the popularity contest in this pueblo. Neither has it ever been his intention.

Satisfied – as usual – with the impression he made, Monastario slowly approached his favorite table. Of course it was free. No one would dare to sit at the _commandante's_ table.

Before he managed to wave for one of the maids, the inn-keeper himself brought him a bottle of wine with admirable - but understandable - haste. Wasn't he one of his best clients?

Savoring the wine, Monastario thought that he never felt so good in any other tavern, even in the biggest and most famous cities, even in Spain, or Mexico… He visited so many of them, and nowhere the wine was as good as here.

Well, it was not only about the wine. Monastario didn't like to admit it – even if only before himself – but he felt bad in the big cities, in which his splendid uniform made no impression, as there were plenty other officers, most of them with higher distinctions… and neither in Spain nor in Mexico the conversations silenced when he entered… He had such an unpleasant impression of being small and insignificant there.

Whereas here…

The sala slowly filled again with buzz of voices, even if much quieter than before, when suddenly the conversations were interrupted again, this time by the sounds of guitar and tambourine. A young, cute dancer in a low-necked bodice and red skirt swirled into the sala, picturing with deft moves the quick rhythm of music. She immediately drew the attention of all gathered guests and Monastario, forgetting his reminiscences, stared at her just as everyone else, not hiding the wide smile.

The girl was pretty and her dance so fiery… No men in the sala could take their eyes from her, as the music was getting wilder and the dance – more passionate. Of course the _commandante_ was the first one whose table she approached with the special show and even more special smile. He thought with satisfaction that it was not only because of his position and full purse, but also because he was one of the best presentable men here. If he visited her later, to pay his appreciation, the girl wouldn't surely mind a few compliments… maybe even a little kiss… or the invitation for private supper… He sighed heavily, calming his imagination. He had to remember about his position in this pueblo. Romancing with the tavern dancer would be far beneath him.

So he only admired the dance, sipping his wine and enjoying such pleasurable closing of the day. Oh, yes, it was a good day, successful one… the day that deserved some celebration.

Monastario's thoughts lazily floated from the dancer to the man he arrested today, when the doors crackled once again and the new guest in the uniform of the King's lancer entered the sala. It was Garcia. Though no one paid attention to him, the fat man also stopped for a moment in the entrance, looking dreamily around, as if he has just gotten into heaven. Then, however, he saddened, lowering his head – obviously again out of money.

Once their eyesight met, the sergeant immediately straightened, trying to look as professional as he only could and energetically strode toward his table.

"Are you done for tonight, Sergeant?" Monastario asked casually.

"Yes, and everything is in perfect order, _Capitán_ ," Garcia reported, straightened like the string, though he couldn't help sending wistful glances to the half-full bottle of wine staying at the _commandante's_ table.

Then, however, the fat man shook his head, as if moving aside all dreams about the rest over the mug of ruby liquid. His face became a little anxious and his sight ran aside – evident sign he had some problems to report.

"Except from one little matter," he added with hesitation.

"Yes?..."

"Señor de la Vega insisted on seeing Don Nacho. I refused as ordered, but he… he got rather irritated," the sergeant stuttered a little. "He will come tomorrow to speak with you, _Capitán_."

Instead of getting angry as his subordinate feared, Monastario grinned with satisfaction.

"Good!" he exclaimed almost merrily.

This was getting even better than he expected. Today he finally arrested Ignatio Torres, one of the _haciendados_ who dared to speak against Monastario's regime in the pueblo… One of the loudest and the boldest of them. At first, the _commandante_ wanted only to get rid of the persistent loudmouth. Then, however, the sharp reaction of Alejandro de la Vega, who was closely befriended with Torres, gave Monastario hope he will also manage to get rid of another enemy.

And de la Vega was definitely the loudest and the boldest one.

Unfortunately, Monastario couldn't imprison him as simply as he did it with Torres, under some far-fetched charges prepared by _Licenciado_ Pina, the _commandante's_ lawyer and accomplice. No, Alejandro was too famous, too rich, he had too many friends…The news of his arrest would certainly reach the governor's ear, and if Monastario hadn't enough good reasons to explain it, it could cost him too much…

Yet now, when the old fool was brought to the limits of his endurance… when he so desperately tried to help his friend in danger… who knows, maybe in the moment of frustration he will finally lose the rest of his control and do something stupid… Something that would legitimaze his arrest and enable to get rid of him too…

"You are free now, Sergeant, _gracias_ ," he said to Garcia.

The soldier almost choked, widely opening his eyes, stunned with the unusual politeness of his superior, but Monastario didn't pay any more attention to the fat sergeant.

He already planned the game he would play with the strong-willed _haciendando_. Initially, Monastario intended to… deal with Torres as quickly as possible. Now he decided to keep him in the cell a few more days… until, with a bit of luck, he will manage to rile up Alejandro enough…

The fate of Torres and de la Vega will be a convincing example for anyone trying to oppose him. Monastario looked around with almost warm smile, not caring that gathered people did their best to avoid his sight.

No, he definitely wasn't insignificant here.

That was his place. Another man feeling what he felt now would say he belonged here, but Monastario knew, it was the opposite. It was this place that belonged to him.

* * *

_Licenciado_ Pina slowly crumbled out of the bed, torn between the need to bury his head under the blanket and sleep a moment longer and the wish to leave the filthy tavern room he spent the night in as soon as possible. Finally the disgust won and he quickly put on his clothes, shaking his head in the vain attempt to get rid of the odour of the fusty bedclothes.

He really didn't want to spend the night in this lousy tavern – the only tavern in San Pedro. It was so near to Los Angeles, to his own comfortable room and bed! Yet the roads were still in very bad condition after the storm that took place last week and he reached San Pedro later than he planned. The dusk was already over the hills, and Pina didn't dare to travel at night, no matter how close his aim was. There were too many bandits lurking in the hill-sides, especially near the route leading from the harbour, waiting for the impatient travellers, so eager to rejoin their families that they didn't want to wait till dawn… _Really, Enrique could do something about these bandits_ _. After all, wasn't he appointed to guard the security of this land? But of course it would be beneath him! He is made to bigger deeds than chasing some common bandits,_ snickered Pina with irritation going downstairs to the sala.

"Have you got some breakfast?" he asked the inn-keeper, who was already wiping some mugs behind his counter. The man wordlessly pointed him the pitchers and plates on the long table under the window.

Only now Pina noticed that in spite of the early hour there were already some guests in the room. One man was drowsing behind the table with his head leant over folded arms, the other one was staying backwards to the sala, looking through the window at the harbour.

Inborn curiosity of the _licenciado_ immediately drew his attention to these two, making him forget for the moment about the fatigue and the lousy tavern. _They couldn't have spent the night here, I would have heard them,_ he thought. _Oh, yes, there is the ship in the harbour. They must have just arrived; maybe they just came here to rent the carriage…_

As if confirming his thoughts, the inn-keeper said in his most polite tone:

"The horses should be ready within the quarter, Señor."

The man staying under the window turned to him and nodded. Though he spoke no word, only smiled politely, it was obvious that he almost shivered with impatience. He shifted anxiously from one side to another and looked behind the window so wistfully, as if he was regretting he cannot fly through it.

 _These young ones, always so full of vitality, even after the sleepless night…_ Pina thought with shadow of envy and headed for the table. He took the pitcher with something that probably used to be milk some time ago and sniffed it content. The smell was definitely discouraging. The reddish man sitting behind the table raised his head and shook it warningly. Pina put the pitcher aside and poured himself some water, taking a piece of bread from the tin plate.

Suddenly the young man near the window budged, nearing even more to the pane and the _licenciado_ immediately followed his glance, curious what caught his attention.

It was the sunrise. The first beams of the rising sun made their way over the hills, brightening the waters of the bay that suddenly glittered like fluid gold.

 _Adorable, indeed,_ Pina obliviously shrugged his shoulders and turned his eyes away.

The young man, however, was so excited that he pulled the arm of his sleepy companion, pointing him the view. The reddish man was too tired to care for the pretty landscapes; at first he only grinned angrily and it seemed he was going to shake off the hand of his friend with impatience. Then, however, his sight fell on Pina and something in his behaviour changed: he stood, looked through the bay and nodded meekly, with an obedient smile.

 _Licenciado_ Pina noticed immediately this strange change, just as the expression of watchfulness appeared for a second on the otherwise kind-hearted face of the stranger.

That required attention. The inquisitorial bent in the _licenciado_ woke up, urging him to learn something more about these two.

"First time in California, Señores?" he asked trying to sound casual.

The reddish man returned to his place giving no sign that he heard the question, but the admirer of the pretty views turned quickly to the _licenciado_. For a moment he perused at him so inquisitively that Pina felt a bit unsure under his scrutinizing sight.

Then for a second, some merry, sly sparks shined in the eyes of the young man, but quickly faded. When he replied, his face expressed nothing but politeness.

"On the contrary. But I never can remain untouched by the beauty of this land," he replied smiling widely and pointing at the bay.

For a moment Pina was captured by the cordiality of his smile. _Pity that such friendly people are so rare to meet,_ he thought with a touch of nostalgia. Then, however, he reminded himself that he should learn something about the young man. He was a stranger. There was something uncommon in him. It meant that he was very suspicious.

And there was such time now in Southern California, that the more friendly and cordial the stranger was, the more suspicions he awoke.

"So you live in the neighbourhood, Señor? Have you perhaps returned from the far journey?" Pina pointed at the ship, précising his interrogation.

The young man seemed to be eager to respond. He leant to Pina with vivid interest, as if truly drawn into the subject of the conversation:

"The sea voyage provides the most impressive experiences! Sunsets and sunrises over the boundless waters! Each of them is worth the hand of the artist that would put them on the canvas. Have you ever tried to paint, Señor?"

"Paint? No, no I didn't," stuttered Pina surprised by the unexpected turn of the conversation. No one has ever asked him a question like this before.

"Well, I did, but I am afraid I lack the necessary talent," the young man shook nostalgically his head. "Only the best masters can catch this elusive beauty of such moments. Have you perhaps seen the works of Friedrich, this German painter, who got quite popular recently? Caspar Friedrich?"

"I beg your pardon?" If the first question threw Pina out of balance, the second one simply stunned him.

"I had the luck to see a few of his paintings and they made on me unforgettable impression," sighed the young man, obviously unaware of the confusion of his interlocutor.

"Señor," Pina fought to regain the control on the conversation, "I wanted to ask whether you…"

"This sunrise," the young man seemed to care only for the view outside the window, "eerily reminds me about his 'View of the harbour'. He is the master of dawns, don't you think?"

"Yyy, yes, I do, of course," replied Pina giving up. Master of dawns?

"And of the sea," added the young man mercilessly. "No one can catch the nature of the stormy waves under the clouded sky just as he."

"Exactly," Pina nodded meekly.

The salvation came from the little, very dirty stripling who just fell into the tavern and whispered something to the inn-keeper. The man, who until this time remained oblivious to the weird conversation his guests led, now approached quickly the young man:

"Señor, the carriage is ready and your luggage loaded," he said with the bow.

"Excellently!" beamed the young traveller.

Pina understood the reason of the inn-keeper's unusual politeness when he noticed the golden glitter of the coins that his interlocutor carelessly handed to their host.

Then the young man turned to Pina:

"It was a pleasure to talk to you, Señor, but now it is time for me to continue my journey. I hope we will meet each other again," he said with unchanged smile, pulled the arm of his companion, who remained strangely unaware of anything that was happening around him and left the room.

 _He is not suspicious, he is just an idiot,_ thought Pina a bit helplessly, staring after the two strangers.

Then, however, he bit his lips with irritation, as he realized that this friendly, talkative man left him with nothing – he didn't even mention his name.

Was the young man so stupid or so clever? Pina couldn't tell. For a moment he just stood in confusion, not sure whether he should feel amused or ridiculed.

Then he waved his hand, giving up. He should take his belongings and see to his horse, when the sunrays warm the air, he will continue his journey as well. As for the two strangers… let them go. They must pass through Los Angeles, and it means that they will have to report to Monastario. _And he will obtain all necessary information_ , thought Pina with a malicious smile.

* * *

The sun was already high over the plaza of Los Angeles, but Monastario didn't exit his office yet to check the order in the _cuartel_. Instead, he was preparing himself to the talk with Alejandro de la Vega, wondering how far he must push the old don, so that there would be no doubts left concerning the legality of his arrest.

"The mutiny… The rebellion…. The assault of the government's official…" he muttered to himself searching through Pina's books. "But what does it exactly mean: the assault? Will yelling be enough? Rather not… It would be the best if the old fool draws out his weapon… And what if he threatens me? It would be easy, but what kind of threats… Damn, Pina would know! Where is he, he should have returned yesterday! This scribbler is never at hand when needed!" Monastario bridled in frustration, throwing away the papers.

Alejandro might be known for his temper, yet unfortunately he was not stupid. So far, he managed somehow to avoid all traps Monastario set on him. The outrage he must feel after the imprisonment of his friend was an occasion the _commandante_ didn't want to lose.

" _Capitán!_ You would never guess who has just arrived!" Monastario's thoughts were interrupted by Sergeant Garcia, who burst into his office unusually for him cheerful and excited.

Monastario furrowed his eyebrows and sent his subordinate menacing glance, discontent with such familiarity.

"Have you forgotten how to enter the quarters of your commanding officer, Sergeant?" he asked reproachfully.

"No, no… I didn't," assured him Garcia, then frowning for a moment, the flash of understanding appearing on his face: "You mean: your quarters, _Capitán_?" he précised.

"I mean knocking!" yelled Monastario.

Garcia flinched, curled up and quickly withdrew a little, raising shyly his hand to knock at the wardrobe.

"Oh, forget it," Monastario almost moaned. "So, who arrived?"

Joyous expression appeared once again at the sergeant's face:

"Don Diego, _Capitán_ ," he replied with a smile and seeing the angry question of his _commandante's_ face, added quickly: "Don Diego de la Vega."

This time Monastario flinched, hearing the hateful name.

"Someone of Don Alejandro's family?" he asked quickly.

"His son," explained the sergeant, his smile fading slowly, as he saw how his superior's face darkened.

 _Damn, that old fool has a son!_ Monastario almost hit his temple. How could he forget about him? Of course he has a son, at the beginning of Monastario's service in Los Angeles, when he was still on friendly terms with the _haciendados_ , Alejandro told him sometimes about his only boy studying in Spain and his eyes always shined with such pride... And now this precious son was here, as if the father wasn't a nuisance enough. And…

"Why didn't I hear anything about his return?" he asked sharply, but the sergeant only stared at him helplessly.

"I don't know, _mi Capitán_ , perhaps because no one told you about it?..." he replied, adding shyly after the moment: "He waits in front of the _cuartel_ right now. May I say to him he is free to go?"

"Have you forgotten the procedures, Sergeant?" Monastario reprimanded him with new energy, getting over the initial surprise. All right, if the wolf's pup is here, he will deal with him. He will show him at the very beginning who is in power here.

"But it is Don Diego, _Capitán_!" the sergeant, unaware of his superior's thoughts, protested with naïve persuasion.

Monastario only scowled at him and the sergeant moved quickly back:

"I will tell him to come here and fill in the declarations," he muttered quietly.

"No," Monastario stopped him. "Right now I am busy, tell him to wait. I will call for him when I am ready," he grinned. Yes, let him wait. That will be the first lesson.

Garcia didn't dare to reply, only saluted and exited the room and Monastario returned to the code books.

However, he couldn't concentrate on the legal complexities, as his thoughts still returned to the unexpected newcomer. Of course it wasn't good that Alejandro will now have new support on his side, but on the other hand, in conducive circumstances, the boy could be used as the hostage against his father… Surely Alejandro wouldn't be so bold if he knew his son's life depends on his behaviour… The origins of a few nasty plans started to emerge in the _commandante's_ head and he almost smiled to himself. Maybe the young one will be even more than his father prone to – Monastario cast a glance into the book he studied – assaulting the government's official?...

Everything depended on what kind of man Alejandro's son turns out to be. Though Monastario wanted to keep him waiting for a considerable time, the curiosity won and much sooner than intended he exited the office to meet him in person.

Just in front of the _cuartel's_ gate he noticed the carriage and the man staying in its shadow. Monastario stopped and blinked in confusion. Something was wrong in this picture, but what? For a moment he observed the newcomer trying to define the unfitting element. He saw the young, tall man, with an absolutely ridiculous walking stick and the clothes a bit too elegant for the traveller, but there was nothing peculiar in him except for the fact that… well, yes. He was reading a book.

Monastario blinked once more, hardly resisting the urge to wipe his eyes. Oh, sure, plenty of people read books in Los Angeles. Padre Felipe had quite an impressive assemblage in the mission, almost every rich _haciendado_ or merchant took it as a point of honour to gather an appreciable library, señoritas with the ambition to appear educated read a lot of novels or poetry, even Monastario had a few shelves of beautifully rimmed volumes… But he has never seen anyone so obsessed with the lecture that he would read it in the middle of the sunny plaza…

 _For Heaven's Sake, he has just returned after a few years of absence! He should look around, talk with people, show some… interest!_ Monastario thought with amazement, shaking his head. Even more watchful and concentrated than before, he approached the young man.

"Señor de la Vega," he drew his attention and presented himself shortly: "Enrique Sanchez Monastario, _commandante_ of the pueblo. I am sorry I had to keep you waiting," he said a bit challengingly, malicious smirk indicating he is not sorry at all.

But Alejandro's son didn't pick a quarrel.

"It is not a problem at all, _commandante_ , with a good lecture time passes quickly," he replied raising the book. Monastario cast a quick glance at the cover, yet the title was too long and complex for him to follow.

Instead he looked scrutinizingly at the young man, reminding himself he faces the son of his sworn enemy. He searched in his face, in his eyes, for any sign of this famous de la Vega temper and impatience… of this stubbornness that made Alejandro such persistent opponent… any sign of this strength that was so visible in his father's behavior…

And he found none. The young caballero patiently allowed the _commandante_ this silent examination. His face expressed flawless – maybe a little distracted – politeness, though he couldn't help his eyes running over and over in the direction of the book he kept.

 _He is bored… He cares neither for me, nor for the home he hadn't seen for so long!_ thought Monastario incredulously. He felt so confused that he almost forgot his animosity toward the newcomer and said politely:

"Please, Señor, follow me to my office. You will just have to fill in the declaration, it won't take long."

The young man nodded and handed the book to his companion. Only now Monastario noticed that he didn't travel alone.

"Is it your servant, Señor?" he asked inquisitively, but the young man only waved lazily his hand.

"Yes, but he cannot hear or speak. I will fill in for him all the declarations you need, _Commandante."_

"This way, please," Monastario pointed him the gate, "but carefully, Señor!" he grabbed the young don's arm, preventing him from the fall, when he stumbled over the shovels and brooms that lancers left under the wall after tidying the _cuartel's_ yard.

"I am afraid it is not a pavement in Madrid," the _commandante_ added a bit cutting.

"No, indeed," agreed the young man with polite smile, "but anyway it is very beautiful here."

Monastario only sighed. _No matter what I say he won't even catch it_ , he thought disheartened, totally losing the will to taunt his guest.

As they entered his office and Alejandro's son started to fill in the documents, Monastario observed him watchfully, trying to figure out what kind of man the young don really is. He seemed so… awkward… Well, he must have been making a good career during his studies, if he appreciated the books so much… Probably he was also a star of the society, judging from his perfect manners, polite smile, impeccable appearance… yes, the elegant, merry life in Madrid was something he belonged to… So why the hell did he come back?

"Señor, it is a small pueblo and no news can remain here a secret, yet we didn't hear anything about your return?" Monastario asked innocently, trying to seem casual.

His caution was not necessary, Alejandro's son replied immediately and direct:

"Originally I was to stay in Spain for one more year. However, I decided to interrupt my studies," seeing the questioning glance of the _commandante_ he explained: "because of health problems."

Health problems? Monastario looked at his interlocutor incredulously. The young man seemed to be remarkably fit and healthy. No one could even say that he had a few months of a long, exhausting sea voyage behind him. Suddenly through the _commandante's_ head ran the thought about consumption and he couldn't help but step back.

"I am sorry to hear that. May I ask what kind of…" Monastario hung his voice, badly wanting to learn some details, yet limited by the social rules forbidding him to be too inquisitive in such ticklish subject.

However, the young man, not offended or abashed even a little, explained obliviously shrugging his shoulders:

"There were far too many physical exercises to my liking."

 _Physical exercises._ Luckily Monastario managed to bite his tongue before he laughed aloud. Damn, he was beginning to like this man. He would give a half of his life to see Alejandro's face when his son explains him the reason of his return.

Monastario cleared his throat to cover the chuckle and ask as seriously as he could:

"So, I guess, you prefer more… calm forms of entertainment, Señor?"

"I am not a soldier and I will never be, why should I sweat with the steel in my hand?" Alejandro's son laughed, but quickly reflected himself looking at Monastario a bit apologetically: "No offence, _Capitán_ , I fully appreciate the responsibility that lies on the army. I just wanted to say, that as we have such brave officers to protect our security and welfare," he bowed to Monastario, indicating that the compliment was directed to him, "there is no need for others to grab for the weapon. I believe that violence and force should be as limited as it is only possible."

 _So much for assaulting the government's official_ , thought Monastario a bit nostalgically. No, that boy won't ever be provoked to attack any lancer… Lancer! Probably he wouldn't even be able to kick off the dog trying to bite his ankle; instead he would run for help to the city guards…

De la Vega finished filling in the declarations and handed over the papers to Monastario. The _commandante_ quickly looked them through and nodded.

However, no matter how innocent and harmless the young don seemed to be, Monastario couldn't resist having the last word in their conversation.

"You may be sure, Señor de la Vega, that you will find the order in Los Angeles just to your liking. Here lancers guard the peace and security of the citizens and there is no need for the others to… endanger themselves grabbing the weapon," he said, stressing the last sentence in such way, that anyone else would take it as a warning.

Anyone, but of course not this dandy. There was no flash of anger, caution or confusion in the eyes of the young man, only polite smile, as he bowed replying:

"I am very glad to hear it. You may be sure, _Capitán_ , that nothing is closer to my heart than the order in which the power is used properly. Within my humble powers I will certainly do anything to contribute to it." He smiled even more cordially than before and added: "You may count on me, _Capitán_."

Monastario replied with a bow and short smile, opening the doors for the young man. Then he returned to his desk, chuckling.

Suddenly he stopped. The return of the young don meant that Alejandro will be today too busy to pay the promised visit in the _cuartel_. The _commandante_ grimaced with disappointment.

"Well, Señor Torres, it seems that your life has just been prolonged, a least till tomorrow…" he whispered.

* * *

_Licenciado_ Pina stopped for a moment in the yard, taking a deep breath before entering Monastario's office. As usual, he felt a little anxious before meeting the _commandante_.

In general, his feelings toward his employer were… complicated. Actually, he should be grateful – when Monastario met him, Pina was in a very difficult situation, desperately trying to find some clients among the drunken troublemakers in the meanest taverns of Mexico City, not being able to earn more money that was necessary to grant him the accommodation for the next day. Sometimes, he didn't even manage to earn that much. Now, in this pueblo, he was one of the most significant citizens, with a nice flat and considerable savings. So, he should be grateful – and he was. Yet, there was also the other side of the coin. Before he met Monastario, he never did anything directly against the law. Well, at least not anything that could get him into real troubles. And now, with Enrique… They crossed the limits, they crossed them far too many times. The _licenciado_ already forgot how it was to sleep calmly at night.

Monastario had the courage Pina lacked, the courage he both admired and hated.

Pina threw an anxious glance at the cell in which Don Nacho Torres was closed and swallowed hard. The _licenciado_ prepared the bill of indictment of this man before his travel to Santa Barbara. Monastario asked him to, so he obeyed. Now the ranchero was arrested. Pina preferred not to know what the _commandante_ was really going to do with his prisoner, yet he feared he will have to hear it.

Hear and accept.

For a moment, his sight met the eyes of the imprisoned man. Pina shivered, quickly turned his head and entered the office.

"So, finally you are back!" exclaimed Monastario. "What kept you so long? I was expecting you yesterday!"

"I stayed for a night in San Pedro," replied Pina. He didn't dare mention the bandits. Monastario wasn't the man who easily takes any complaints.

"Speaking about San Pedro," Pina added, trying to forget the glance Don Nacho sent him, "I have met two peculiar men in the harbor. They must have passed by Los Angeles no earlier than two hours ago. One was tall, young, in a blue suit embroidered with gold – very embroidered – and…

"It was the young de la Vega. Son of Alejandro," Monastario interrupted him. For a moment he wrinkled his brows, finally shook his head giving up: "I forgot his name. The sergeant will remember, he knew him before the boy left for Spain."

Pina stiffened and looked at the _commandante_ in disbelief.

"No matter the name! Alejandro's son returned and you say it so calmly?"

"I do, because there is nothing to worry about," Monastario laughed. "I spoke with him, he is nothing more than a harmless dandy. Oh, no doubts he was a very glamorous gentleman in Madrid, but here… I think he will have too many difficulties with adapting himself to the life here to cause us any troubles," the _commandante_ chuckled maliciously once again.

Pina didn't share his joyous mood. He tried not to show it, but he was always very afraid of Alejandro de la Vega. When the old don started to shout, the _licenciado_ had to gather all his strength to resist the urge to run away. And now he will also have to face his son…

"Why did he return?" he asked sharply.

"Well, he seems to be quite comfortable man. I believe he just got tired with the efforts of living alone and returned under the care of his pápá…" replied Monastario waving for the _licenciado_ to sit down, yet Pina remain on his feet, still stiff and alert.

"And the second one? Low, reddish, a bit plump?"

"It might have been his servant. I am not sure, I didn't look at him too exactly."

"There was something strange in him," said Pina with pensiveness. "If he is a servant, he appeared to be a bit too familiar with his master…"

"Oh, he cannot hear or speak, maybe they communicate in some strange manner," Monastario shrugged his shoulders and Pina nodded. That was possible. However, forgetting the servant, he still had many doubts concerning his master.

"But the young de la Vega?..." he started once again, though he noticed that Monastario is getting a bit impatient with the conversation. "Listen, personally I have nothing against this man, on the contrary, when I talked to him, he seemed to be quite likeable. A bit weird, but very polite. But the fact that he is Alejandro's son…"

"Don't worry, in this case the apple has fallen far from the tree," Monastario waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, yes, he is quite a bookworm, so occasionally he may quote us some laws, but it will be your task to cope with it. Nothing serious. I know men like him, they may protest, talk, complain for hours, but they never ever actually do something. Now, please, stop worrying and sit down. There are some things we have to discuss."

Pina didn't move.

"I am not sure if you are right. No matter what kind of man he is, the same fact that he is a Vega means we will have problems with him," he repeated stubbornly.

"No we won't!" yelled Monastario, losing his temper. "Stop crowing! He will have problems with moving around his father's rancho in his shiny shoes! His father will have problems with making him even enter the stables, not mentioning touching one of his famous horses! But we certainly won't have any problems with him!"

"All right, if you are so certain, the better," Pina raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Because I met someone else, someone that could mean real troubles for us," he started taking the deep breath.

Monastario moaned, squeezing his head with the hands.

"No, not again! Are you a man, or a child afraid of its own shadow? Whom else have you met? Please, do tell me. What kind of new menace crossed your path? The governor on the tollgate of the pueblo, with the order of my dismissal in his sleeve? The king himself travelling the road, with the sentence of our exile? Or maybe Archangel Gabriel with the flame sword, to send us both straight to hell?"

Pina took the shouting with the offended face.

"I met some strange men in Santa Barbara," he said stiffly. "And do not joke in such way, all right? Not about hell."

The _commandante_ only stared at him for a moment and Pina saw he is fighting with laughter.

"So, whom did you meet in Santa Barbara?" he asked in a tone indicating that he has just gathered the remains of his patience. The _licenciado_ tried to gather his and finally sat on the chair Monastario showed him.

"I could rather say they met me. They approached me in the tavern I stayed in. Two men, seemingly wealthy, they didn't say their names. And they wanted to speak about you."

"About me?" Monastario looked at him with interest. "They asked about me?"

"No, they didn't ask about anything," Pina shook his head. "They said they know I am working closely with you. And they said they know all your sins and ambitions."

"Sins and ambitions?" repeated Monastario, staring at him in disbelief.

"That is the expression they used. Sounds strange, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but it doesn't mean anything," Monastario tried to appear oblivious, but Pina knew he felt a bit confused. "So, what was it they wanted? Revenge? Blackmail?"

"Here comes the best part," the _licenciado_ smirked. "They said they might offer their help… in exchange for yours."

Monastario walked up and down the room, his hand folded behind his back.

"What precisely did they offer? And what did they want?"

"I don't know," Pina shook his head. "They said it is too early to speak about the details. They just wanted me to pass to you that… that there is someone who might help you become the most powerful man in this region. And that they will contact us soon once again. That's all."

For a few minutes Monastario continued to walk through the room. Suddenly he stopped, and to Pina's surprise, loudly laughed.

"That's all?" he asked and when Pina nodded, he laughed even louder. "And that is what you are so anxious about? That's too far, even for you! Two unknown men approach you saying that they are oh-so-powerful and fearsome and you immediately get panicked?"

"You should have seen them," muttered Pina reluctantly. "They were not some ordinary boasters."

"No, not boasters," agreed Monastario, "but scavengers, searching for carrion. Cheaters, trying to elude us and gain something… from our loot."

Pina wanted to protest, but Monastario smiled with indulgence:

"Can't you see? They not only didn't say what they can offer, but also what they want. And I will tell you why – because they don't know. They have just heard something about us, true, but nothing specific. So, they tried to frighten you, hoping they will frighten me as well. Soon they will come to Los Angeles, to get oriented in the situation and continue the intrigue. And then I will arrange for them the proper welcome," Monastario smiled in a very unpleasant way.

 _That all sounds reasonable, perhaps Enrique is right_ , thought Pina a bit heartened. _Perhaps I am exaggerating? I got rather nervous recently._ And yet…

"They didn't look for men who accept easily the refusal, apologize for the inconvenience and leave," Pina felt obliged to warn the _commandante_. Having said this he almost closed his eyes, afraid of the new outburst of his superior.

However, Monastario didn't start to shout.

"Tomás, look through the window," he said surprisingly calm, pointing him the view of the _cuartel's_ yard and plaza of Los Angeles, filled with the usual crowd: colorful jackets of the lancers, natives and vaqueros in plain clothes, a few rancheros with their beautiful horses – all mixed together in the usual business day.

Pina followed obediently his glance, but frowned. Monastario hardly ever spoke to him by name. Was he starting to treat him as friend? No, not possible. Monastario had no friends. Neither did Pina. And yet it was… nice. Pina listened gladly when the _commandante_ spoke:

"What you see is the world of sheep and wolves. Occasionally there are vultures, like these you met in Santa Barbara. When will you realize that in this world we are the most dangerous beasts? We are the wolves. We do not have to fear anyone. The others should fear us, do you understand?"

"You are right. After all, we are the…" Pina hesitated not knowing how to finish the sentence. The most evil? It didn't sound well.

"The strongest," concluded Monastario fiercely.

"And now, we have to talk seriously," he continued sitting in front of the _licenciado_. "Have you seen Nacho Torres in the cell? I must discuss with you how are we going to… finalize this matter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is based on Disney show and you will meet here mostly the characters that you saw in the movie... but slightly different and in different circumstances. The plot can be understood without seeing the movie, though the direction of some threads will be more difficult to foresee.
> 
> I dedicate this story to IcyWaters. Not because she as usual beta-read it - as for this she has always my gratitude - but because she appreciates Commandante Monastario just as I do, to the point where we wish the smug officer that he could at least once have an upper hand over certain masked bandit.
> 
> I own nothing and the story is written for pleasure only, yours and mine.


	2. The Fuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the commandante meets someone and significantly overreacts.  
> The licenciado is amused. He shouldn't.

"I don't care. If you want to send these men to the gallows, you need to find better reason than that. It is just not enough. I won't prepare you the justification of the death sentence basing on such evidences," Pina threw at the _commandate's_ desk the pile of papers he worked on the whole evening.

The nights were for Pina the time of anxious reflections, when he stirred for hours in darkness imagining the consequences of what he decided to do during the day, troubled by doubts, hesitation, fear…

Monastario, however, slept well and without dreams, so now he was as usual full of energy and new plans – and definitely didn't welcome Pina's dilemmas.

"Be careful, _Licenciado_. I am finding the aims, finding the reasons is your job. If you are not able to fulfil it… you are becoming useless," he stated slowly with unpleasant smile.

Pina didn't reply, only rubbed his temple. Then he quietly took the papers and started to flick them through once more. For someone who knew as much about Monastario as he… it was definitely healthier to be useful.

Monastario in the meantime leant on the window frame and observed the _cuartel's_ yard. He saw Sergeant Garcia, wandering up and down near Torres' cell and unsurely trying to start the conversation with the prisoner. His attempts were in vain, as Torres only moved himself deeper into his confinement. The fat man just stood silently for a moment in front of the cell, and Monastario could imagine how pitiful his big face must have looked like... Then his shoulders slumped down, head lowered and the sergeant shuffled heavily toward the gate.

Monastario smirked. Garcia was stupid and clumsy, yet there was something in him that the _commandante_ despised even more than his incompetence – namely his need to be on friendly terms with all the people around him. So, that fat fool lived many years in this cosy, warm pueblo and indeed everyone liked him… until Monastario took command. Now the common aversion that surrounded the _commandante_ became also the share of his subordinate.

Suddenly Monastario straightened, seeing how Garcia led two men in caballero's suits through the yard.

"We have guests, _Licenciado_. I knew that nothing will keep Alejandro long from helping his dear friend," the _commandante_ gloated at Pina with an ironic smirk and cast one more glance through the window.

De la Vega quickly neared to the cell to exchange a few words with Torres. His moves were decisive and energetic as usual and he was, of course, wearing the sword by his side… Good, very good. If he only touches the hilt… Monastario smiled almost joyously.

As for Alejandro's son – Monastario forgot to ask Garcia to remind his name – he appeared even more foppish and out of place than yesterday. The young man greeted Don Nacho too and looked around the _cuartel_ in obvious confusion _,_ as if he was seeing such building for the first time in his life. Well, most probably he was seeing the military building for the first time in his life. He stared at the stables roof so much, that he stumbled over the trough and would have certainly landed in the yard's dust, if Garcia didn't hold him in time. _That boy needs a nanny!_ chuckled Monastario, now fully amused.

When the de la Vegas entered the office, Don Alejandro greeted the _commandante_ with the short, reluctant nod.

" _Capitán_ , I heard you met my son yesterday," he stated harshly instead of presentation.

Monastario curiously looked at the young man, wondering, how he will behave after all the calumnies that Alejandro must have told him about the _commandante_.

However, the young de la Vega didn't seem hostile or anxious. He even smiled to the _commandante_ , though simultaneously he was blinking and fighting to suppress the yawn. In fact he was just… sleepy or bored… well, generally dissatisfied with the fact he has to be up at such early hour.

"My associate, _Licenciado_ Pina," Monastario presented his companion.

"We also have met," Alejandro's son bowed politely, straightening some invisible wrinkles on his vest, "and we had the most interesting discussion I hope to continue. The _licenciado_ is the enthusiast of painting," he explained to his father.

Don Alejandro watched the scene with slight confusion on his face. Hearing the last words of his son, he measured Pina with a glance clearly saying 'Enthusiast or not, you are no more than a crooked rascal' and waved his hand with impatience.

"Well, you may continue it later. Right now I came here in the matter concerning Don Ignatio Torres," he came to the point, turning to the _commandante_ : "How long are you going to keep him imprisoned, _Capitán_?"

The young man meekly silenced, placing himself aside by the wall, his hands folded and sight aimed at the tips of his shiny shoes. Obviously, he didn't intend to participate in the conversation… and Monastario forgot the son, concentrating himself on the father. He sat comfortably behind his desk, ordered some papers on its top and only then replied, calmly but with rather impudent smile.

"As long as it will be necessary. Torres is accused of treason."

"Opposing your tyranny is not treason." Alejandro didn't sit, only rested his hands on the _commandante's_ desk, leaning in his direction. "You are not the source of justice here, Monastario."

Monastario observed his tensed pose with satisfaction. _Very good. He wants confrontation and I will give it to him…_

"And you are not the one to decide about it, Senor," he stated glaring at the older man with irony.

"I am his friend. Besides, I am the member of the city council. You have no right to imprison whoever you want without our consent."

Monastario leant back playing with the ink-pot.

"On the contrary. Don't forget that your… council is under my supervision," he smirked scornfully and added: "I am granted the right to take all means necessary to ensure the security of this pueblo."

"It is not the security you want to…" started Alejandro leaning himself a bit more forward, when suddenly his son chimed in:

"Father, the _commandante_ is right. Los Angeles is under military supervision," he stated very quietly, but Monastario didn't like his tone. It was too… watchful. He also didn't like the fact that Alejandro, surprised by his son's words, straightened and looked at him questioningly, for a moment forgetting about Monastario.

The young man raised the hand to his chin and continued smoothly, as if unaware of reluctant glances, both of his father and the _commandante_ :

"Of course, I am sure that the _capitán_ wouldn't dismiss the opinion of the _cabildo_ … For the sake of the mutual relations he will surely take into consideration what we can tell him about our friend and neighbour… On the other hand, neither the council nor the _alcalde_ or any of us, wouldn't like to compromise the safety of the community. So, if the _capitán_ disposes with the proofs pointing that… Oh, and, by the way, what sort of proofs against Don Nacho do you actually have, _Capitán_?"

Monastario just looked at him blinking, surprised by the unexpected conclusion of this suave speech that put him off guard, so Pina quickly replied:

"The investigation is still in progress. We cannot reveal any details as there maybe others involved in the plot."

Young de la Vega narrowed his eyes and wanted to say something, but his father almost jumped, piercing Monastario with an indignant sight.

"Others? So, you want to get rid of all your opponents at once, Monastario? So that you could terrorize this land without anyone getting in your way? I will never let you harm…"

 _Perfect,_ thought Monastario seeing the outburst of the _haciendado._ He quickly stood up and neared to de la Vega, looking him straight in the eyes:

"You can do nothing," he accented, knowing well what was Alejandro's biggest weakness – he couldn't bear being helpless.

That was it. Alejandro tensed, leant forward and his eyes glittered in such a way, that even if Monastario was seeking the confrontation, he couldn't help the slight shiver.

"I swear to you, that…" he started with a changed voice when suddenly his son grabbed his arm, turning him aside, forcing him to move the sight from Monastario to his face.

"Father. _Por favor_. Be reasonable," he said quietly, in a calm, almost tender voice.

Alejandro looked at his son for a while… and slowly the fire in his eyes faded and his face softened, as he nodded a few times, giving up.

"You are right, Diego," he replied warmly with a smile that reflected his son's expression.

Monastario observed the scene keeping ironic smile on his face, yet deep inside…

Deep inside, he was curling with envy.

His own father only once looked at him with such expression and even then… No, no, it was not the time to snivel. Yet, it was bitter to witness now how this young… clown… who did nothing to earn the respect of his father... who didn't even finish these studies of his….

" _Capitán_?" the voice of the young de la Vega woke Monastario from his reminiscences, " _Capitán_ , when you finish your… investigation… I am sure that you will present the proofs of your accusations to the council and _alcalde_?"

Monastario only nodded obliviously, not trying to return to his confrontation with Don Alejandro. That battle was lost… the only thing he could do was to prepare the next one.

* * *

"Young de la Vega was right. You shouldn't dismiss the opinion of the _cabildo_ ," said Pina, surprised with the silence of his employer that prolonged a good while after the de la Vegas left the office.

Monastario slowly moved the eyes on the _licenciado_ and on his face appeared his usual malicious smirk.

"Oh, but the fop had a lot of excellent ideas today. For example, that no one would like to compromise the safety of the community, when it is endangered."

Pina shook his head.

"I am sorry, _Capitán_ , but the fact that someone speaks against you doesn't mean that the safety of the community is endangered," he stated a bit ironically.

"And what if there would be an attack, not on me, but… on the _cuartel_? Wouldn't it be reason enough… the reason you wanted me to find?" Monastario smiled a bit wider… and Pina didn't like what this smile suggested… he didn't like it at all.

"The _cuartel_? You mean that someone could attack the _cuartel_?" he asked uncertainly.

"Not simply someone, but someone in vaquero's clothes... Someone we would recognize as one of Torres' vaqueros. Wouldn't it be reason enough to execute his master as… swiftly as possible? And when I hang Torres, Alejandro should lose the remains of his reason, even with this trim Guardian Angel by his side."

"How will you made someone attack the cuartel?" précised Pina, stiff with anxiety.

"I am not talking about the direct attack, only about a treacherous, mean action, aimed at… lowering our defensive abilities…" the _commandante_ rubbed his hands and, seeing the confusion on Pina's face, added: "Well, if someone, for example would try to destroy our stock of gunpowder? Wouldn't it be dangerous enough?"

The _licenciado_ jumped on his feet and, forgetting the usual distance between him and his employer, grabbed Monastario's arm.

"Gunpowder? You want to blow up the _cuartel's_ gunpowder? Are you mad, _Capitán_?" Pina stressed the last word, reminding Monastario about his rank. "It is treason!"

Monastario bridled with irritation. Treason? What was that scribbler saying? Monastario's will was the highest law here, how could anything he does be considered treason?

And yet, through Monastario's mind flashed some uncomfortable memories of his superiors in Santa Barbara, the governor in Monterey, the military oath he took so many years ago…

He moved them aside with angry snicker. Governor! The only thing he cared about was shipping off the suitable share of taxes to Spain, as it granted him King's approval and certainty of his office.

As for the King… he probably couldn't even locate California on the map.

No, it was indeed the world of sheep and wolves and Monastario wasn't going to be the meek dog, guarding the herd for someone else's prey.

He shook Pina's hand away.

"Don't be silly, _Licenciado_. I am not going to destroy all the powder, only the barrels we keep to be at hand, in the storage near the gate. The rest is safely hidden in the cellar. As for the… political matters… do not worry yourself with it. I seek only legal advice from you."

Pina rubbed his temple and looked around, as if searching for some arguments that could persuade Monastario to give up this madness. Suddenly his eyes fell on the window and he stiffened.

"Someone's out there!"

Monastario grabbed his sword and rushed out of the office. However, as soon as saw the silhouette of the man sitting on the veranda under the widow, he relaxed and sheathed the weapon.

"It is only the servant of the young de la Vega. Don't worry, he cannot hear. Besides, don't you think he is a bit… weak-minded?" he observed pointing at the plump man, who, with maniac stubbornness, tried to settle some wooden toy, unaware of anything around him.

"I don't know, when I met him at the harbour, he didn't seem to be weak-minded to me," muttered Pina.

"And why this does not surprise me…" sighed Monastario and pulled the servant's arm, pointing him the gate of the _cuartel_. The man looked at him groggily and didn't move, so the _commandante_ impatiently grabbed his collar and pushed him out of the veranda. He also tried to add a kick, but the servant was already running through the patio in the most ridiculous haste.

"The servant worth his master," Monastario showed his teeth in a wide smile and turned to Pina. "Now, go home, _Licenciado_ , and rest. Tomorrow morning, after the most misfortunate attack on our _cuartel_ , we will have the court-martial."

* * *

 _This is wrong, this is all wrong, it cannot end well, I don't want to be in it…_ panicked thoughts rattled in Pina's head as he exited the _cuartel_. He always used to follow one main rule in his life: do not mess with people that are stronger than you. Now, thanks to Monastario, he was in the conflict with the most powerful landowners in Southern California and soon, if the _commandante_ proceeds with his insane plan, he will be guilty of complicity in the state offence.

And yet, the only thing he could do was to blunder further, hoping that Monastario's luck would be strong enough to save the heads of them both.

To calm himself down a little, he decided for a late breakfast in the tavern. At the entrance he hesitated, seeing one of the de la Vegas beautiful horses tethered under the building… but luckily inside he saw not Don Alejandro, only his son.

Pina sighed with relief and took place. Waiting for his order, he observed the young man who has just finished a chess match with the _alcalde_. The _licenciado_ couldn't see who won, yet both men laughed and congratulated themselves in the best moods. Then the _alcalde_ took de la Vega to other guests; some of them greeted him as the old acquaintance, some others presented themselves. The merry buzz of voices filled in the tavern, usually quiet at this time of day.

 _It seems that he doesn't have as many difficulties with adapting himself to the life in Los Angeles as Enrique predicted_ , noticed Pina obliviously.

Sergeant Garcia entered the tavern and Pina couldn't help but smile, seeing the dejected lancer mooning through the room, searching for some other soldiers… or more precisely, some other soldiers with money. Having found none, he slowly headed for the exit, when the young de la Vega crossed his way.

"Sergeant! You are leaving already? Please, won't you sit here for a while? We have a few years to make up for, don't you think?" he asked merrily, pointing to the table.

"Gracias... Señor de la Vega, but…" stuttered Garcia looking unsurely around, yet the young man only laughed.

"Since when do you address me that way? Please, Sergeant, sit with me and tell me, what…"

He was interrupted by one of the men accompanying the _alcalde_ , Juan Peralta, who stood up and approached them with darkened face.

"Señor de la Vega… You have been away for a while, you may not be aware that some things have changed. We do not drink with soldiers."

The hurt expression on Garcia's usually so jovial face was visible even from Pina's corner. Yet, the fat man neither got angry nor defended himself, only mumbled, swirling in the direction of the doors:

"I didn't… I should anyway…" He would probably leave just leave like the beaten dog, if de la Vega didn't stop him, putting the hand on his shoulder. The young man turned to Peralta speaking calmly, though his voice changed a little:

"I know nothing about the soldiers. I am going to drink with Sergeant Garcia, whom I have known for many years… As for you, Señor, you may stay with us or leave, it is up to you."

Juan bridled surprised by the objection, but the _alcalde_ pulled his sleeve.

"Sit down, Juan. When you have my years, you will learn to see behind the clothes one wears."

Having said that, the old man moved a little making the place for the sergeant. The tension faded as the men took their places, and soon the usual rumble surrounded the table, this time filled in with the deep bass of Garcia.

However, even if Peralta muttered some apologies toward the sergeant, he stared for a while very reluctantly toward de la Vega. The young man simply kept his glance, with slightly crooked head and narrowed eyes, until Juan gave up and lowered the sight to his glass.

"I was right. There is more in this man than meets the eye," whispered Pina to himself.

* * *

"Sergeant Garcia will take all the lancers on the night maneuvers. Only you and me will be staying in the _cuartel_ tonight," said Monastario to Private Sepulveda.

The soldier nodded and curiously waited for the _commandante_ to speak further, so Monastario continued:

"When the _cuartel_ is empty, you will change into some vaquero's clothes. I have it already prepared for you. Then you make the fuse, lead it out of the storage with gunpowder – outside the walls of the _cuartel_ , Torres cannot see you doing this – light it… and get back to your room. Whatever happens, first destroy the clothes. If anyone asks later, you had a very firm sleep that night. Well, actually you may say that you have noticed some of Torres' vaqueros lurking around the _cuartel_ … but nothing more." Monastario finished and pierced the soldier with watchful glance.

Private Sepulveda grinned smoothly:

"I understand perfectly. Is that all?"

"No," Monastario cut him in a tone that made the soldier's knowing smile disappear in a second. "If you fail… or if you speak too much… you are as well as dead, do you understand?"

"Si, _mí Capitán_ ," replied Sepulveda with much more respect than before.

"Now that is all. Dismissed," finished Monastario.

No, it wasn't wise to introduce the soldier into the plot… But what else could he do? Monastario always followed one main rule in life: if you have to do something on your own, find someone else to do it for you. In case of failure you will have another to put the guilt on.

Besides, Sepulveda already knew much about Monastario. And Monastario knew much more about Sepulveda.

When the night came and Sergeant Garcia with resigned expression set off with the lancers for the maneuvers that should take the whole night, Monastario laid himself comfortably in a bed with a book. Since he saw young de la Vega with the lecture, he couldn't shake off the impression that there was something very… elegant about it.

So, he tried to read, though he couldn't concentrate, involuntarily tensed, waiting for the sound of the explosion. His sight ran over and over again into the direction of the window - it was getting darker and darker. Finally, it was absolutely dark.

And still nothing happened.

After two hours, Monastario couldn't bear it any longer. He threw the book aside and peeked into the yard.

Nothing, only darkness.

What was that fool waiting for? Surely everyone at the pueblo was sound asleep by now. The time was running away. What if Garcia will miss his bed so much, that he returns earlier on some excuse? Finally, Monastario gave up and exited the room. The storage with the gunpowder was situated near the small side doors that in the times of peace were usually widely opened, for the merchant with supplies during the days and… well, yes, for the merry girls during the nights. In the restless times like these, the doors were carefully barricaded with the pile of boxes and barrels. Private Sepulveda must have removed at least part of them to lead the fuse outside, yet Monastario didn't dare to use that way, in case it would be lit in the meantime. He exited through the main gate and carefully headed into the direction where the fuse should be prepared.

Indeed, it was. Even in the dim moon light, Monastario could see the cord on the ground. Yet, it was still not burning. The _commandante_ spotted the dark silhouette hidden near the doors.

"What are you still doing here, you idiot?" he hissed. "Light the fuse and get away."

He almost turned back, ready to leave the place of explosion as soon as possible, when the dark stain he thought to be Private Sepulveda parted from the shadow of the wall.

"So soon? But we barely met, _Capitán_ ," sounded soft, yet mocking voice.

Monastario quickly moved in his direction – and his eyes widened as instead of Sepulveda he saw the man in a black cape and hat shadowing his face. Or, more precisely, the black mask on his face.

"Who the hell…?"

"Someone who has a few reservations toward your… strategy, _Capitán_ ," replied the shadow in the same tone as before and kicked the fuse lying on the ground. It was cut.

Monastario glimpsed at the useless string under his feet and then looked at the man in front of him more carefully, realising that the view was most unusual.

To start with, his face was covered. Monastario was used to the bandits hiding their features, but this time it was different. This time it was not the filthy bandana wrapped around the mouth, only the black, carefully cut mask hiding the upper part of the face.

And it was not only the mask. Everything else in the stranger was uncommon, starting from the cape flowing from his shoulders like a piece of the night, to his black shoes and soft gloves. Silk and leather seemed to shine in the moonlight with some strange glow.

Monastario shook his head, trying to think logically. Such costume must have cost a lot of effort. So, the _commandante_ quickly reasoned, whoever was wearing it, must have prepared himself carefully, not for a one-strike attack, but for the long-time… campaign…

And he was so… black. Like the shadow. Like the night around them. Like some damned devil.

"And what the abomination are you?" the _commandante_ asked slowly narrowing his eyes and making a step closer… though something in him wanted to make a step in the opposite direction…

"You may call me Zorro," replied the stranger with laughter in his voice, the white teeth suddenly flashing in the wide smile.

"The Fox? Catchy. I will remember to use it farewelling you at the gallows," hissed Monastario, slowly regaining his composure.

"You may not have that occasion, _Capitán_ …" the masked man neared a little unsheathing his rapier. The moon light glittered on the blade and for a moment it looked like a silver beam.

That was at least something Monastario understood. He took out his weapon, as usual relishing the sound of the steel leaving the sheath.

Oh, yes, that was something he understood, that was something he loved. He lunged forward at the masked intruder and when the blades clashed, he almost closed his eyes with delight.

When the stranger effortlessly blocked his first stabs, Monastario even pleased, that it is not some clumsy vaquero only the real swashbuckler who will provide better entertainment. The _commandante_ carefully controlled his attacks, decided he will not simply run the bandit through, only bring him to his knees… and rip this infuriating mask off with its owner still alive, helpless and begging for mercy.

His eyes shined at this prospect and he eagerly dived into the exchange of thrust and parries.

Oh, yes, this man was good. So quick, so agile and definitely well-trained. He moved through the darkness with admirable speed, only the glitter of his blade marking his position. That was a real entertainment indeed!

Monastario was so lost in his glee that it took him a long while to understand something is not exactly as it should be. Or rather, that something is quite wrong.

No matter what the _commandante_ did, he couldn't corner his opponent into the disadvantageous position, force him to defensive fight or knock the sword out of his hand.

 _He is not getting tired. He is not making mistakes,_ Monastario thought with unpleasant surprise.

He was giving the best of himself, using the most sophisticated tricks he has ever learnt – yet it helped nothing. The shadow in front of him was parrying everything as effortlessly as at the beginning and his silver blade seemed to get more and more difficult to block.

Slowly the shadow of anxiety started to clench Monastario's throat. Now he would give very much for the occasion to simply run his opponent through.

A strong blow sent him to the ground and even though the _commandante_ didn't drop his sword and jumped quickly to his feet, the anxiety turned into panic.

Once he first admitted a sting of fear, the wave of frightening realisations overran him immediately. Monastario understood that it is he who is getting tired. His fingers clutching too tightly the hand guard of the sword began to numb. His legs were too stiff, a few times he stumbled over the even ground. He had more and more difficulties with noticing the moves of his opponent and parrying his thrusts.

 _I will lose this fight_ , desperate thought crossed through his mind and he felt dizzy.

No, no, no. He has never lost a duel. He was the most skilled and practiced fencer in the garrisons of Monterey and Santa Barbara. He only had to gather his strength for one last effort.

And he did so. Even if something in him whispered he shouldn't attack right now, only calm down and concentrate, he tensed his muscles and lunged forward with all determination.

In the next second his hand was empty and he heard his sword hit the ground somewhere far behind him.

"How reckless. Childish mistake," reprimanded him his opponent and the laugher clanged again in his voice.

Monastario blinked and swirled, trying to locate his weapon, but the peak of the stranger's sword pressed to his throat kept him in place.

"Go to the _cuartel_. And make no sound," ordered the masked bandit and this time his voice was not amused only threatening.

Monastario clenched his teeth and slowly limped in the direction of the _cuartel's_ gate, all of his senses concentrated on the cold touch of steel on his neck.

No, he didn't try to make a sound. In fact, he was rather relieved that they met no one on their way. Though the fear for his life made the cold drops of sweat appear on his temple, he would rather die than let anyone see him being led on the peak of the sword… like the helpless sheep.

Oh, damn, Torres. As soon as they entered the yard, Ignatio Torres jumped at the unusual view and clung to the bars. Monastario could swear that in spite of the darkness he saw the prisoner smile.

 _I will kill him, I will just kill him, with my own hands, I will kill them both_ , repeated Monastario, his cheeks burning with humiliation.

"Go into the cell," ordered the masked man.

Monastario realised that if the bandit intends to murder him, now is the moment, when no one, except Torres, can see them. Is it where his life will finish, in one of the cells in his own garrison? He imagined the lancers finding his body after they return… suddenly his legs refused to obey and he stopped for a moment just in front of the bars.

The man behind him grabbed the collar of Monastario's uniform and threw him inside the cell. Then he leant into his direction and spoke in a tone that suddenly made Monastario feel very, very cold.

"It is only the beginning. Watch your steps, _Capitán_ , watch your hands, because I will be watching you… and if you will try to harm the innocent people for your ambitions... I will be somewhere in shadows waiting for you."

Monastario let out the breath he didn't know he was keeping. Once he understood that the stranger does not intend to kill him, all the humiliation and fury returned:

"You will regret it," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I swear I will find you, even if you hide yourself under the earth, I will dig you up and make you pay."

" _Capitán_ , and I swear to you, that you will not have to dig me up from the earth. We will meet again," laughed the masked man with his wide, a bit ravenous smile, turning the keys in the lock.

Then he ran toward Torres and said something quietly. Monastario heard only Torres' answer.

"No. Thank you, but no. I don't want his vengeance over my family and my land. My friends will help me… to get a fair judgement."

"All right, it is better that way," replied the stranger. "I will be watching over you. And I will find some way… to acquit you in the name of the law."

In the meantime, through the _cuartel's_ ajar gate, slowly throttled a big, black stallion. He stopped at the middle of the yard, sniffed a few times and turned into the direction of Monastario. Then the animal looked at the _commandante_ for a while with his big eyes and suddenly snorted. It really sounded like a chuckle.

"That was rude, Tornado," the masked man reprimanded his mount and jumped on the saddle. The horse reared and the rider, throwing the keys into the pile of straw and hay for horses, bowed into the direction of Monastario with mocking salute.

"Good night, _Capitán_!" he exclaimed merrily and galloped into the darkness behind the gate.

* * *

This time, Sergeant Garcia must have scrupulously covered the whole route the _commandante_ chose for maneuvers, as the hours passed and the lancers didn't return to the cuartel. Monastario paced up and down through the small cell, clenching his fists, listening to the church clock striking one hour after another and, with each sound of the clock, finding new ways of killing the masked bandit.

No, hanging definitely wasn't enough.

After considering all interesting means of execution he heard about in Europe, like tearing with horses or stoning to death, Monastario, searching for some more sophisticated solutions, reached to the deepest resources of the religious knowledge he acquired during some rare church visits. For example, Apostle John was boiled in the copper with hot oil. The Saint survived it, but this… Fox shouldn't.

But where one could find the copper big enough?

About three hours after midnight, Monastario reminded himself about Saint Laurence who was baked alive on the fire grate and started to wonder if something like this could be arranged at the _cuartel's_ yard.

There was also something in the martyrdom of Saint Hippolytus that worked on imagination, but Monastario couldn't recall the details.

Suddenly his considerations were interrupted by the clatter of horses' hoofs – Sergeant Garcia finally returned with lancers.

" _Capitán_?" he asked staring at Monastario as if he saw the ghost. " _Capitán_ , what are you doing in the cell?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, _baboso_ , only get me out of here!" shouted Monastario, infuriated by the merry chuckles among the lancers. "The keys are somewhere in the straw!"

"But why did you throw the keys into the straw, _Capitán_? With you inside the cell?" startled Garcia not making the slightest move into the direction of the straw pile.

"Find these keys!" yelled Monastario.

The lancers started to brush aside the straw, but without much success, even if Garcia encouraged them with hectic shouts:

"Hurry on, hurry on! All of you, search, don't stay aside! Help the _commandante_!"

Yet, the more lancers burrowed in the pile with their muskets, the more they seem to disturb one another.

"Perhaps I could get you something to eat in the meantime, _Capitán_? Or to drink?" asked shyly Sergeant Garcia. "We may have to wait till dawn, so…"

"Find. These. Keys. Baboso!" gnarled Monastario clenching his hands on the bars.

Ignatio Torres in the cell on the opposite site of the yard sat on the ground hiding his face in the hands.

"I know," suddenly proposed Corporal Reyes. "Maybe we could burn the straw? Then the keys should be easily found in the ashes?"

"Good idea, Corporal!" pleased the sergeant, yet then he hesitated. "But what if the keys melt in the fire? Do you think that the iron would melt, Corporal?"

"I don't know," replied Reyes with sleepy pensiveness. "I have never tried to burn the keys. We can try and see."

"All right," agreed the sergeant. "But providing they melt…" he interrupted and looked at Monastario: "What shall we do if the keys melt, _mí Capitán_?"

"Idiots!" yelled Monastario. "I will hang you the moment I get out!"

"In such case I am not sure if I should hurry with finding the keys," noticed gloomily the sergeant, but obediently moved into the direction of the straw pile.

Suddenly he froze hearing the quiet moan from the adjacent cell.

"It must be Sepulveda," observed Monastario. He forgot about the private till that moment.

Garcia quickly moved to the bars, trying to peek inside.

"He is bound and gagged, but seem to be otherwise unharmed. What happened to him?"

"I don't know, he must have been stunned," replied Monastario obliviously. "Just hurry with those keys, you stupid barrel!"

"Yes, we must see how is he," muttered Garcia, throwing anxious glances into the cell, where Sepulveda was closed.

"Oh. I found the keys," Corporal Reyes suddenly appeared by Garcia's side, handing him the metal ring.

The lancers quickly took care about Sepulveda, who with their help stood up, looking a bit groggily around. Monastario, as soon as he got out, corrected his uniform and took deep breath.

"Lancers, to horses!" he yelled. "We are going for a search!"

 _And we won't return until I get this black bastard,_ he thought mounting his white stallion.

* * *

The sun was already high when Pina went to the _cuartel_. Yet, Monastario wasn't there and the _licenciado_ couldn't learn much from the two lancers left on guard. So, he went to the tavern and after an hour he already knew the details of Monastario's night adventure. He couldn't hide a small smile on his lips… The rest of the afternoon he spent between the tavern and his office, watchfully observing the _cuartel_ , but only when the shadows on the plaza got quite long, did he see the blue jackets of the lancers arriving at the gate.

Pina quickly ran toward them.

"So, you didn't find him?" he asked Monastario, looking at the soldiers.

The lancers were so tired, that they barely had the strength to take care about their horses. Monastario seemed a bit better, but even he was rather battered, the stains of dust and mud dirtying his usually immaculately white uniform trousers.

"You heard already?" bridled Monastario angrily.

"Everyone did," the _licenciado_ shrugged his shoulders. "Thanks to you."

He looked at his employer maliciously and added shaking his head.

"Bravo, _Capitán_. Bravo. After you have been asking in all haciendas for the masked bandit who calls himself the Fox for the whole day, no one at the pueblo speaks about anything else. Usually the bandits have to work months for such recognition and you gave it to him in one day. Bravo."

Of course the _licenciado_ knew that Monastario's failures are also his misfortune, but some part of him couldn't help enjoying the confusion of the dashing _capitán_.

Monastario must have been in a really bad shape, as he ignored the taunts, only asked impatiently:

"What do the people say?"

"Some think it is the _desperado_ from the mountains, with claim of vengeance against you. However, most of the people say it is the… oh, well, the protector of the poor, defender against your injustice… and so on," stated Pina rather obliviously. He didn't care for bandits, no matter how fancy aliases they chose.

"Any clues, and gossips, who might he be?" urged him Monastario.

"Apart from the opinion that he was sent by Heaven? No." Pina was getting irritated with the subject. "Now listen, _Capitán_ , as for Torres' case, Alejandro de la Vega..."

"Forget Torres! Forget de la Vega!" the _commandante_ finally burst out. "These old fools can wait for their turn! I want that man, that black rascal, I want him alive, so that I could…"

"Only that de la Vega was not polite enough to wait patiently until you decide it is his turn," interrupted him Pina. "In the meantime, while you were strolling through the countryside, he gathered the _cabildo_ and they sent an official letter to the governor… saying that they fear for Ignatio Torres' life, as he is your private enemy and you arrested him without a reason… Don Alejandro came to inform you about it, but as you were not present, he talked to me."

"Alejandro knows what happened last night at the _cuartel_?" asked Monastario absently.

"He didn't in the morning, but as his son has been sitting in the tavern since siesta, he will surely bring him all the gossips. Anyway, does it matter? Did you understand what happened?" Pina almost jumped with irritation. "Don Augustin already rode to Monterey. Now you do need strong evidence if you still want to dispose of Torres. In my opinion, not one of these hot headed fools would get into such… neat idea, so I guess that it was that…"

"Don Augustin?" Monastario finally looked at the _licenciado_ with some attention, "I will arrest him before he reaches the King's Road."

"You cannot arrest everyone," Pina shrugged his shoulders again. "Besides, I am afraid he had already reached it and I see that your lancers are in no condition to catch up with him."

The _licenciado_ looked at the lancers again – it was hard to say who was more tired; they or their horses. Monastario for a moment seemed a bit unsure, but then he only waved his hand dismissively in the air.

"No matter. We will find some way to hang him in the name of the law," he stated with serenity that Pina definitely didn't like, especially because the _commandante_ used the plural form.

A moment later, however, Monastario's face darkened and his eyes shined with rancour unusual even by him:

"And as for that damned disguiser, I will get him, I will kill him and he will rot under the graveyard's wall!" the _commandante_ breathed quickly for a moment and added gloomily: "And I will get that horse of his too."

Pina stared at him for a moment.

"Could you just… calm yourself?" he asked quietly.

To his surprise, Monastario just nodded.

"I will deal with him in a few days. He is just a bandit. One more bandit, nothing else," he repeated much calmer. "Only that," he confided to Pina after a moment of consideration and hung his voice for so long, that the _licenciado_ urged him:

"Only what?"

"He has a hideous smile," finished heavily Monastario.

* * *

This time Monastario welcomed the tiredness as it let him forget after the night's humiliation. Yet, when he entered his room, he understood he will not be able to sleep. So, the _commandante_ decided to visit the tavern… drink some wine… watch this catchy dancer… and if someone smirks even once looking at him, he will arrest him on the spot and flog tomorrow.

Almost satisfied, Monastario walked to the tavern.

Yet, when he entered the sala, he froze at the door on the unpleasant surprise.

His table – his favourite table was occupied. Or, the more proper description would be - very occupied. At least dozens of guests crowded over him, so that Monastario had to crane his neck to see through the crowd, who was so bold – or so stupid – to take his place.

He noticed the ornate jacket of Alejandro's son, but it was not the young man who drew the attention of the other guests. It was his goofy servant.

The young de la Vega watched with boyish fascination, holding his breath as the others around them, when his servant built a house from the few packs of cards. House? It was a sophisticated construction, with walls, gates, towers, annexes of different size… After the moment Monastario recognised the _cuartel_ , portrayed with thorough precision, just as it could be seen from the tavern's widows.

The construction was almost finished; there was only one card, a joker, left on the table.

The plump servant pointed to his master to do the honour of finalising the work. The young man bowed in comic way and took the card, adding it negligently somewhere at the side.

The balance of the construction was disturbed and all the cards, the whole so precisely prepared building, fell on the table in the total mess. The disappointed onlookers sighed and slowly returned to their places. However, though the trick had just failed, Alejandro's son and his servant curled with guffaw, as if something very joyous has just happen: the plump cripple with soundless chuckle and the young man with loud, contagious laughter.

"Jester!" muttered angrily Monastario and exited the tavern.


	3. Paperwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the commandante organises the supper that goes very badly.  
> The licenciado's whole day goes even worse.

Even Don Alejandro was discreet enough not to yell at his son in the middle of the plaza. However, though the two men kept their voices quiet, it was evident from their poses and gestures that they were quarrelling. Finally the older don turned on the spot, mounted his horse and rode away without one glance back. His son looked behind him motionlessly for a long while before he slowly made his traditional route to the tavern.

"The prodigal son returned and was welcomed by his father with great joy. Yet, when few days passed they understood they will never come to terms with each other," stated sententiously Monastario and added with malicious, satisfied glitter in his eyes: "Finally they started to quarrel. Finally."

"And what's so important about it?" Pina shrugged his shoulders. He knew one thing for certain – these rich families at the end always stick together, no matter the internal differences.

"Nothing. But it is always nice to witness," replied Monastario with a smirk and, obviously enjoying the subject, continued: "I asked the trusted man to keep an eye at the hacienda. They quarrel, because the old man wants his son to finally do something. Oh, nothing peculiar," he explained seeing Pina's questioning glance. "Simply something. Anything. I meant, anything except from sleeping, reading books, drinking wine and playing the guitar. But it is clearly beyond the boy's abilities," he smiled widely.

"I heard he also plays the piano quite well," muttered Pina and immediately regretted these words, realising how stupid they sounded.

"Are you as well the enthusiast of music, _Licenciado_?" the _commandante_ looked at him with malice.

"Better tell me, _Capitán_ , why did you want to speak with me today? Any progress with catching your mysterious masker?" retorted Pina, with satisfaction noticing how the smile disappears from Monastario's face. "Or maybe you found the way to solve Torres' problem? You cannot keep him in the cell forever."

"As the matter of fact I found it," replied slowly Monastario. "And that is exactly what I want to discuss with you. Let's go to your office."

"Why do we meet here, not in the _cuartel?"_ asked Pina opening the doors. Usually, when the _commandante_ wanted to speak with him, he just sent some soldier for him. This time, Monastario not only searched for Pina by himself, but also when they met at the plaza, he headed for the _licenciado's_ office.

"I am not sure if I may trust all the lancers," replied Monastario simply. "This… Zorro must have learnt about my last plan somehow. Maybe he has some secret supporters at the _cuartel_?"

Pina rolled discreetly his eyes. It has been two days since that night when the _commandante_ met the black clad bandit on his way. Yet, instead of calming himself and looking at the incident from reasonable perspective, Monastario still seemed to suspect the dark figure in each shadow.

"Don't let this man distract you," the _licenciado_ warned his superior. "These bandits are always finally caught, sooner or later," Pina smirked with a shadow of superiority. He always had little respect for all the dashing desperados that fired the imagination of the people… Maybe he himself was no more than a scribbler… but he was a clever scribbler. And he saw many executions of the most daring men _._ "Don't forget who can cause us the real trouble – men like Torres or de la Vega," he added warningly.

"I am not forgetting anything," Monastario shrugged his shoulders with his usual smug confidence. "Now listen - _Coronel_ Briones will be visiting Los Angeles tonight."

"Inspection?" asked Pina anxiously.

"No, no," Monastario calmed him. "He is just returning to Monterey from San Diego, where he supervised the fortifications under new cannons. He is going to spend only one night here and he sent me the note in advance to… well, to be sure that he will have a suitable accommodation."

Pina relaxed. True, he heard dozens of merry stories about Briones' feasts and drunks. Surely he expected the _commandante_ of each pueblo he passed through to give him a proper welcome.

Monastario continued, the sly sparks slowly lighting in his eyes.

"Of course I will organize for him the suitable – the most suitable – reception. There will be a lavish table, a lot of wine… everything our _coronel_ appreciates in life. And in the meantime I will ask him for a small favour – confirmation of a few of my verdicts. After all, isn't he my superior? I can always ask him for judgement, if I want to make sure that there will be no suspicions concerning my objectivity. You know, for the benefits of mutual relations with the _cabildo_ ," finished Monastario, the sparks turning into the wide smile.

Pina for a moment considered cautiously his words and… the more he thought about this plan, the more he liked it.

It was simple, safe and legal.

"That's… brilliant!" he said sincerely with the same smile as this on the face of his superior.

Monastario nodded with the content expression.

"Once he signs the verdict – it is done. No matter what Don Augustin tells in Monterey, I will be above any suspicions. You know that Briones is the governor's right hand."

"Drinking buddy would be better expression."

"It is one and the same," Monastario obliviously waved his hand. "The governor will stand for any of his decisions. Of course we won't bore the _Coronel_ with the details," the _commandante_ turned to Pina with knowing smile. "Prepare the verdicts, so that he wouldn't have to do anything more but put his signature. You know… sumptuous supper… good wine… who would have the head for reading some dusty papers?"

The _licenciado_ nodded, but then hesitated.

"And what if he realises on the next day that you persuaded him to… acting too hastily? That you manipulated him?..."

"On the next day it will be too late," laughed loudly Monastario. "On the next day Torres will be already after his last walk… to the gallows. Do you think that Briones will admit that he sent the man to death because he was drunk? No, once it is done, he will have no other options than to announce he supported my decision. Prepare the papers."

"So for Torres?..." asked quietly Pina. Monastario's reasoning was flawless and yet…

"Charges of treason and death sentence," replied firmly Monastario.

All right. All right. Pina will only have to prepare the documents; it will be just like an exercise during the studies…The responsibility goes to the man who accepts the verdict, not to the one who prepares it. The responsibility, the guilt… What guilt?

_It is not my fault that this Briones is a drunkard!_ Pina bridled quietly and nodded in agreement.

* * *

After exiting the _licenciado's_ office, Monastario stopped for a while and looked at the crowded plaza. No, he wasn't forgetting anything, but his thoughts instantly returned to the impudent masker.

Was he now here, at the plaza so vibrant with life? Was he one of the vaqueros, making their businesses amidst the wooden stalls, one of _haciendados_ strolling with the ladies in the shadow of the church? Or, the most probably, the vagabond, the swashbuckler – so many of them always circled near the tavern, searching for adventures…

He could be anyone. Even one of the lancers.

Suddenly, the usually so familiar pueblo appeared in Monastario's eyes mysterious and hostile.

How could it happen? The _commandante_ knew Los Angeles and its citizens so well. He had spies, paid generously for all the gossips, controlled all the meeting, intercepted the post… If someone uttered one word against him, Monastario knew it in a minute.

How could he not notice the man of such bravery and skills?

Monastario shook his head with discontent. Bravery and skills? Was he now complimenting the bandit? That masked rascal simply had some luck, that's all.

He slowly walked toward the _cuartel_. Near the tavern he stopped for a while, admiring the horse of the young de la Vega. It was such a pretty animal – a bit too meek for Monastario's liking, he preferred more spirited mounts – but still splendid. The _commandante_ patted the horse's neck and once again looked around.

'I will be watching you' said _el Zorro_. Was it possible, that he was here right now, observing Monastario? The _commandante_ tried to recall the silhouette of the masked man and compare it to the people around him – but it was useless. The black attire fulfilled its role, Monastario couldn't recall anything peculiar from the posture of the bandit – but the blackness. He seemed to be tall, but how tall? Like this man in the weary coat leaning over the well right now – or his companion, one or two inches taller? He was also slim, but…

_It is useless, I will never recognize him without a mask,_ admitted Monastario, rubbing the nose of the de la Vega's horse. The animal reluctantly shook his head, to avoid the caress, so the _commandante_ moved aside, his thoughts still occupied with the black bandit. _Besides, I am just silly. He would never come to the pueblo. All these bandits always have their hidings in the mountains that they leave only to attack._

All these bandits… Pina said that all these bandits are finally caught, sooner or later and it was true. Monastario heard about – or even helped to hunt – so many _desperados_ who kept themselves for something better that the common robbers, as they seemed to live by some code of honor…

Like el Pincho, called that way from his famous rapier with silver hilt or, el Cuchillo, or Silverstra brothers - the arsonists who extorted ransom from terrorized rancheros in the crimson bandanas hiding their faces. There was even one woman amidst them, known as Angelita. Despite that name, what her band did to their victims made Monastario shiver with disgust. When she was hanged in Capistrano, the crowd witnessed the execution in dark silence, without one outcry of protest or compassion, though she was a woman, a young and beautiful one.

Monastario smiled, finding great comfort in the list of the names he recalled… as it was also the list of the executions.

True, el Cuchillo so far fooled the guards of the law, yet he moved to Mexico, and in Mexico they never knew how to do things right… As for Silvestra brothers, they were executed a few months ago, and _Capitán_ Zambrano from San Diego displayed some sense of fantasy, decorating the gallows with their crimson bandanas.

_I could do the same with that black mask,_ thought dreamy Monastario.

And el Pincho, he was probably the most daring of all them… so daring that he got some recognition among the peasants that helped him remain unpunished for a very long time. Yet, he fell in love in the _haciendado's_ daughter. To the common indignation and her family despair, the girl requited his feelings and for a few months they lived happily in the mountains… until el Pincho became smitten with the fiery tavern maid from Pasadena. His betrayed lover denounced him to the lancers… and now the dashing _bandido_ was no more than a handful of dust.

_And the same will meet the Fox,_ swore silently Monastario.

And yet…

Monastario's intuition was whispering that he came across quite a different man than el Cuchillo, the Silverstra brothers… or even el Pincho.

It kept reminding him about two unsettling details from that misfortunate night.

'I will find some way to acquit you in the name of the law' said the masked man to Torres. How… unusual and unsettling. What kind of bandit cares for the law? Or 'acquit'! What kind of bandit uses such words?

And something more, absolutely not understandable: why the Fox didn't kill Sepulveda.

After the consideration, Monastario saw many reasons why he was spared by the masked bandit, the most important being that murdering the _commandante_ would bring after him the most relentless chase the army. But Sepulveda? Simple lancer? _El Zorro_ took unnecessary risk, simply stunning him and locking him in the cell. If he woke up and managed to warn Monastario while he was crossing the _cuartel's_ yard…

_I don't understand it,_ thought Monastario a bit helplessly, furrowing his eyebrows in almost painful confusion.

Tired with the considerations that had been gnawing him from two days, he moved them aside, sighed and strengthened.

No, it was simple. The Fox was a bandit, the bandits live in mountains but they never work alone. He must have had some helpers who would inform him about Monastario's movements. To catch one of them would be the easiest way to get to the Fox himself.

The _commandante_ already ordered the lancers to prepare the wanted posters, they should be ready by now. In each band are the men prone to be tempted by money… and five hundred pesos was the sum beyond imagination for any peon or vaquero.

Monastario with new energy quickly strode toward the _cuartel._

* * *

The freshly painted wanted posters were drying in the sun at the _cuartel's_ yard, announcing the reward for the information leading to capture – dead or alive – 'the bandit who calls himself _el Zorro'_. Sergeant Garcia was just kneeling on the ground and finishing the last one, puffing with effort as he carefully moved the brush over the paper.

Corporal Reyes stood behind him and admired his work.

"You are ingenious, Sergeant. These posters are splendid," he stated with wonderment. "I could never do it so well."

"You think so, Corporal? _Gracias_!" the sergeant beamed and moved back a little, looking appraisingly at the posters.

Monastario vaguely reminded himself, that he actually asked Reyes to prepare them… Well, apparently he found some way to cope with the task…

"You only could add some drawing," noticed Reyes.

"Drawing? What drawing?" the sergeant frowned in confusion.

"Well, there is usually an image of the wanted man on the posters. I saw it many times," the corporal yawned leaning on his musket. The sergeant measured him with irritated glance:

"Stupid, I can't draw an image of _el Zorro._ No one knows what he looks like."

"Well, you could paint the fox."

"The fox?"

"Yes, the little fox, it would look very nicely. Or at least the head, the small snout," Reyes looked at Garcia pleadingly.

The sergeant crooked his head, looked cautiously at the posters and, obviously taken by inspiration, waved with the brush in the air, as if preparing to make a sketch. Then he hesitated.

"But which fox should I draw? The silver, mountain one? Or the smaller, reddish, from the sierra?"

"I am not sure," Reyes hesitated too. "And which one attacked the _curatel_?"

Monastario moaned.

"Idiots," he said very weakly, but the soldiers immediately stood at attention.

" _Capitán_ , the posters are ready as ordered," reported Garcia in his most formal tone. "As soon as the ink dries, we will hang them at the pueblo."

Monastario took deep breath, gathering his patience.

"You may do it later, Sergeant, right now I have some special task for you."

"Si, _Capitán_?" the sergeant straightened obediently though on his face immediately appeared the shadow of anxiety.

" _Coronel_ Briones will be visiting me tonight. I want to offer him a proper treatment. You will go to the inn-keeper and settle the arrangements – to prepare the food and have it delivered at my quarters at the evening," he said, handing Garcia the small pouch.

"We pay?" the sergeant looked at Monastario with eyes round with surprise, hiding the pouch under his sash with admirable dexterity.

"Yes, but everything has to be of the best quality. I don't care how much it will cost, but it must be an excellent meal. And the wine. A lot of the best wine they have. If you do well, Sergeant, you can count on some reward. Maybe I will give you your next payroll in advance," Monastario smiled encouragingly and the sergeant beamed as if he had just got the best order in his life.

"I won't fail you, _Capitán_ ," he said assuringly and added in the tone of the connoisseur, "But, _Capitán_ , if you want to have really good wine, perhaps we should get some bottles from de la Vega hacienda?"

For a second malicious sparks flashed in Monastario's eyes. That was the idea! To use Alejandro's wine at the supper aimed at the doom of his friend! That would be the joke at the account of the proud _haciendado_! Then he reconsidered it and waved his hand with resignation.

"Forget it, Alejandro won't sell me even the vinegar," he muttered.

Yet the concept of gulling Alejandro in such way was so appealing that he didn't want to resign from it easily… and after a moment a new idea flashed in his mind:

"But you know, Sergeant? Maybe his son will agree. Why don't you ask him?"

"Don Diego? Of course he will be glad to help!" exclaimed merrily the sergeant.

"You got on quite friendly terms with each other, huh?" noticed Monastario. "Very well, it will serve us now. He is just in the tavern. Go there, Sergeant, talk to him… tell him how important a guest we will have today, be friendly… Maybe he agrees."

"Of course, _Capitán_. If you allow, I will carry the orders immediately." Garcia straightened in the most professional salute and rushed toward the gate in rather unprofessional ardour.

"May I help him, _Capitán_?..." asked quietly Corporal Reyes throwing pitiful expression in the direction of the tavern.

"Actually, Corporal, you could hang them in the pueblo," Monastario pointed at the wanted posters drying on the ground.

Reyes didn't move.

"If you say that I can do it, _Capitán_ ," he asked with pensiveness, some hope still visible on his face, "does it mean that I do not have to do it?"

"No," replied shortly Monastario. It was irritating enough, that he has just made Sergeant Garcia the happiest soldier in Southern California.

* * *

Preparing the documents took Pina more time than he expected. Monastario wanted to give more than one verdict to Briones' approval… just to bore him with minor cases and put him off guard. So, Pina had to describe the affairs of a few lancers that got into some brawls in the tavern, the refusal for the _cabildo's_ petition to lower the taxes for the maintenance of the cuartel, the rejection of the complaints of some merchants who claimed not to be paid properly for their supplies to the army… When he finally delivered all the papers to Monastario and returned to his office, the sun was already in the middle of the sky and the time for siesta came.

Pina wiped the sweat from his face, drank some water and laid himself on the couch.

_For me, this case is over,_ he thought, closing his eyes. _Now it is up to Monastario. I did what I was asked too… but I didn't do anything wrong. Someone else will decide about the life of this man. Not me._

Somehow the idea that it will be _Coronel_ Briones who signs the verdict calmed him very much. Now it is not so, that Pina and Monastario plotted something unlawful together. If the governor's friend and official confirms the verdict… well, it is lawful, even if cruel. Pity for Torres, but that's just how life in California is.

Lazily, Pina thought that Monastario must be preparing for his performance right now and he was pleased that he didn't have to participate in it. Good, it was all over. Pina closed his eyes, thinking that he was slowly getting tired with the whole affair. No, as the matter of fact he was already very tired. During the last few nights he didn't sleep well, instantly woken up by the fears and nightmares… It will be nice to rest at least... All his thoughts drifted away, as he fell into sleep.

Unfortunately the nightmare that woke him up this time didn't disappear when he opened his eyes.

"I am sorry to interrupt your sleep, _Licenciado_ , but I urgently need legal advice," said merrily the man in the black mask sitting in the rather nonchalant pose on the table near Pina's couch. His polite words denied the bare rapier he kept in hand, resting its peek over the _licenciado's_ breast.

Pina for a moment lost his breath. In the moment of panic he abruptly lurched forward, to escape or get some help… The visitor moved his blade back a little – but just a little, no more than it was necessary to prevent the weapon from running through Pina's skin.

"No, no. Don't," he shook his head with reproach.

Pina stiffened, slowly realizing what happened and who sits in front of him.

_Monastario's bandit… the Fox…_ the _licenciado_ thought with despair, looking at the dark silhouette in front of him.

Till this moment, Pina secretly laughed at the impression the masked man made on Monastario, thinking that the _commandante_ overestimated his opponent, lured by the game of the nightly shadows. Now he had to admit, that even in the middle of the day, in so familiar Pina's quarters, the bandit looked… intimidating. As the matter of fact, in this black outfit without one colorful accent he looked like the piece of the night that suddenly appeared in the _licenciado's_ cozy apartment.

Pina swallowed hard, reminding himself that this bandit is only a man, not some demon sent to haunt him.

"What do you want?" he spat out.

The masked man shifted a little, sitting more comfortably, his cape floating from the table with the quiet rustle as he moved.

"Well, I heard that you are a good lawyer… and what's more, a lawyer who makes the verdicts to order… I am just here to order something." The white teeth of the stranger flashed in the wide smile.

_Monastario was right, it is hideous,_ crossed through Pina's mind. He replied so unsurely, that he felt ashamed with the weakness in his voice:

"I am not going to do anything for you."

The masked man didn't reply, only raised gently his hand keeping the blade, rolling slightly the hilt between two fingers. The steel glittered.

Pina had to admit that he hadn't been so scared in his whole life.

He hated weapons, fight and physical force. He never fought, even as a boy. Oh, yes, here he fully agreed with the young de la Vega – violence was something… distasteful, something that should be banned from the world… And it was something that simply paralyzed him.

The _licenciado_ could spin the man's death out of the paragraphs in his books, but right now, facing the sharp blade aimed at him, he felt absolutely helpless.

The Fox must have noticed that all Pina's will to resist melted, as he jumped off the table and ordered sharply, without the trail of his previous smile:

"Go to your desk. And don't worry, if the inspiration fails you. I will tell you what to write."

Pina slowly stood up and looked unsurely around, with the last shadow of fading hope searching for something to rescue him.

"Hurry," hissed the man behind him, pressing the blade to his neck.

Pina shivered, closing his eyes for a moment and resignedly sat behind the desk, reaching for the ink and paper.

* * *

Monastario carefully looked through the documents Pina brought him, placing the verdict for Torres in the middle of others. Hopefully Briones will simply sign it, not noticing how the weight of this case differs from the others… Of course the _commandante_ wasn't going to conceal that one of the verdicts concerns the charges against the wealthy landowner… but he wasn't going into the unnecessary details either.

Satisfied, he put the papers into the leather folder and hid it into his desk in the small study adjacent to his office, so that they would be at hand when during supper the right time comes. Then he quickly went to his quarters. It was already late and Monastario had to prepare himself for welcoming his superior.

When he returned to his office some time later, in the fresh, spotless uniform with all the distinctions, in the room were bustling Sergeant Garcia and the servant of the young de la Vega. Two very promising boxes were placed under the wall, and the mute was wiping the dust from the dark bottles.

"Good evening, _Capitán_!" the sergeant smiled widely handing Monastario the small note – wishes of pleasurable supper from Alejandro's son.

Monastario smiled. This boy was a perfect citizen: meek and polite. If only all the landowners in the neighborhood were like him, how much easier the life of the _commandante_ would be!

Then he noticed that the sergeant's smile is a bit too… cordial. And this smell in the air…

"Do I guess properly that you helped to choose the wine, Sergeant?" he asked with reproach.

"But, _Capitán_ … I had to make sure… that everything will be of the best quality," Garcia looked at him with the expression of the hurt innocence.

"And the food?"

"Everything's arranged as ordered," assured him Garcia, returning the pouch with the rest of the money. "As soon as the _coronel_ arrives, the servants will bring the meal."

"Good," nodded Monastario.

He noticed that the servant finished cleaning the bottles and started to polish the glasses he brought from the cupboard. A bit irritated that the mute moves around his office with such ease, Monastario said:

"You don't have to do it, you may leave now," before reminding himself that the man does not hear. So, he pulled his arm pointing at the door, but the mute only smiled to him nodding and continued his work.

Monastario sighed.

"Sergeant, I have no strengths to this man… Get him out of here, because if I see this goofy smile once more, I am not responsible for what I may do…"

"Oh, _Capitán_ , but he was so helpful here!" protested Garcia, poking the servant's shoulder.

The mute turned to him, smiled widely and bowed. The sergeant giggled unsurely and… bowed too with the mirrored smile. The servant in response bowed once again, grinning even wider and Garcia…

"Garcia!" yelled Monastario.

"Si, _Capitán_ ," the sergeant jumped interrupting the exchange of courtesies and gently led the mute out of the room.

Judging from the tender glances he threw at the little man, some of the bottles from the de la Vega hacienda must have made its way straight to the sergeant's room. Monastario snickered with irritation, but right now he had to concentrate on Briones and…

" _Capitán_ ," Sergeant Garcia peeked once again into the office, "if you are satisfied… You mentioned something about payroll in advance?..."

"I will send it to the inn-keeper to pay part of your debt, Sergeant," replied Monastario maliciously, irritated with the lancer's impudence.

"I have no debt in the tavern," slipped the sergeant.

Monastario raised his eyebrows, eyed Garcia suspiciously and slowly weighed his pouch he was still keeping in the hand. It was surprisingly light.

"But I do not mind receiving my payroll later, _Capitán_ ," finished Sergeant Garcia hurriedly leaving the room.

* * *

The wine from the de la Vega hacienda was indeed excellent, yet Monastario barely wetted his lips in the glass, only pretending that he is raising one toast after another with his guest. _Coronel_ Briones, however, enjoyed the feast… without any reservations.

"You prepared here a really royal reception, Enrique," he said cordially, patting Monastario's shoulder. "I see you are doing well here… everything in the _cuartel_ and at the pueblo seem to be in perfect order…"

"Gracias, your appreciation means a lot to me, Sir," the _commandante_ bowed with courtesy, but Briones only patted him once again, so strongly, that the stroke almost pushed Monastario into his plate:

"You may call me by name," he stated warmly.

"Gracias, Fermín," replied Monastario, deep in his soul bridling with irritation. He hated when someone patted his shoulder. And he hated to be addressed by name.

"However, you should be careful, Enrique," said Briones, moving nearer the next dish. "You have some strange enemies."

Monastario looked at him questioningly, pouring him more wine. The _coronel_ took deep gulp and explained:

"Before my visit to San Diego, some strange men were asking questions about you. They seemed to be especially interested in any… irregularities in your career."

"Really? But, of course, there aren't any," replied suavely Monastario.

"Of course, and I sent them straight to hell," assured him the _coronel_ a bit too quickly, but then added with a new ardor: "and if I see them once again, I will arrest them on the spot. You are good man, Enrique," he raised his hand to Monastario's shoulder once again, so the _commandante_ quickly dodged standing up to fetch new bottles.

"However, you have to be cautious," finished Briones, gladly accepting the new toast.

Monastario was only slightly interested in this story. This could have been anyone, most probably some rancheros, searching for the way to get rid of him. Well, they won't achieve anything. Irregularities in the career meant nothing here, if the officer proved to be effective. However, this conversation gave a suitable introduction to start the _commandante's_ business.

"I am cautious and I do my best to keep the good relations with the civilians in the area… which is not always easy. Sometimes the army has to take… unpopular decisions," he began slowly. When the _coronel_ melancholically nodded, putting on his place the new portion of the smoked ham, Monastario continued: "That is where I would like to ask you for help… Fermín… There are a few cases, in which my verdicts differ with the _cabildo's_ opinion. If you be so kind to accept them, I would avoid any accusations of… not being objective."

"Ha, you want me to take these unpopular decisions so that you could later put the responsibility on me, when the _cabildo_ protests?" exclaimed merrily Briones and Monastario frowned for a moment, but the _coronel_ waved his hand: "Very well, I am not afraid of some… villagers. So, which cases are so difficult? Show me."

"They aren't actually difficult," explained Monastario bringing the folder with documents from the study, "but as one of them involves the member of the _cabildo_ …"

"Ah, I hate these civilian idlers…" swore Briones taking the folder.

To Monastario's unpleasant surprise, the _coronel_ started to read the verdicts… However, he put his signature on one document after another. The _commandante_ almost held his breath, watching as Briones signed the pages filled in with Pina's calligraphic writing, putting the accepted documents aside. Was the Torres verdict already on that pile? Monastario craned his neck to see which document Briones is reading now, when the _coronel_ shifted and asked:

"So, this member of the _cabildo_ is this Torres?"

"Si," nodded Monastario stiffened.

"Troublemaker," muttered the _coronel_ putting his big signature under the verdict.

Monastario did his best not to gasp with relief. It was done.

Briones finished with the remaining documents and leant himself in the chair, with the refilled goblet in his hand.

"You know, Enrique, if this Torres causes you so much troubles, why don't you call him here and I will announce him the verdict myself? If I understand correctly, he is in the cuartel's cell right now."

"Yes, but it is not necessary. I will cope with him," assured him Monastario. Yet, Briones insisted:

"No, I will gladly do something for you. Bring him here."

* * *

Monastario reluctantly left the room. He couldn't refuse, but it was just… unnecessary. The _coronel_ did what he wanted him to do, now he should just go to sleep… not play the judge. Torres surely will protest, try to explain his situation… What if Briones will sober up and understand what he did?

To make the things worse, under Torres' cell was standing Alejandro de la Vega. What was that impetuous fool doing here? And where was the sergeant, he should guard the gate… Monastario cursed silently. This evening was getting a bit too difficult to handle.

"I heard you have a special guest today, Monastario," said Alejandro measuring him with the watchful glance as soon as the _commandante_ neared to the cell.

" _Coronel_ Briones from Monterey. And he took the verdict in your case, Señor Torres," replied Monastario as calmly as he could.

"And what is the verdict?" asked Torres. His voice was quiet, but the expression in his eyes when he looked at the _commandante_ … Oh, it was the reason enough to hang this man!

"He will announce it to you himself. Come with me," he replied, opening the cell.

"I am going with him," stated firmly de la Vega.

"No."

"You sentenced him without a trial and now you even won't let his friends to hear the verdict with him?" asked Alejandro seriously with a strange tone in his voice. No, it was not anger.

Monastario shivered. Somehow… when Alejandro spoke in such way, he always felt… very strange. Very unsure. As if… well, as if – guilty.

And that was why he hated Alejandro so much.

Monastario bit his lips, trying to forget all unsettling feelings that Alejandro's voice woke in him. On the other hand… why not agree? Briones read the verdict and didn't protest, he was probably so drunk that he didn't care anymore… When Alejandro sees the _coronel_ in such state, he will probably… oh, he will surely make the row… And hadn't the _coronel_ just stated that he hates troublesome civilians? If only Alejandro protests loud enough… who knows, maybe tomorrow Monastario will have two executions at the _cuartel's_ yard?

He smiled in his most unpleasant smile.

"All right. Come," he nodded and led the _haciendados_ to his office.

"Sir… This is Señor Torres… and this is Señor de la Vega who wanted to listen to the verdict too, if you do not mind," Monastario presented the _haciendados_ entering the office.

"Querulous neighbours, ha? You should be ashamed, Señores!" exclaimed Briones, trying to stand from the table. Unsuccessfully.

Ignatio Torres leant himself on the wall, lowering his head with resignation as he understood that his fate has just been decided during the drunk of two officers, but Alejandro de la Vega narrowed his eyes, seething with anger just as Monastario foresaw.

"What… mockery is that?" he hissed pointing at the table stained with wine and the wavering _coronel_.

Despite his will, Monastario felt his cheeks burning. Why did he have to run to such tricks? What kind of word was his, that the decisive man couldn't simply get rid of the people who stood in his way?

Briones didn't notice Alejandro's question only continued, still fighting with the armchair and table blocking his way to stand up:

"You should be ashamed, both of you," he stated loudly. "You trouble the devoted officer in such turbulent times with your petty quarrels… pulling his attention from securing your lands! Instead of helping him… helping the King… you just… you…" he stuttered and fell heavily into the chair, giving up the battle with the stubborn furniture.

Don Alejandro was unfailing. _Coronel_ Briones might be … well, the colonel, governor's friend and one of the most important men in the whole California, but he charged at him without a moment of hesitation.

" _Coronel_ , you are in no condition to…" he started violently, but Briones interrupted him raising his hand:

"Señor… de la Vega, and you should be ashamed twice! The man of your blood… of your statue... You should be more conscious of the duties of a patriotic citizen. Now, these… these silly claims of both of you are discharged, and you return calmly home and not bother us with your childish quarrels again! Is that clear?"

Monastario froze and blinked. What?…

"What is he talking about?" Alejandro, who already made two steps in the direction of the table, turned to Monastario furrowing his eyebrows.

The _commandante_ was so confused that he only looked at his enemy and replied helplessly shaking his head:

"I have no idea."

" _Coronel_?..." Alejandro looked at Briones, this time his voice not angry, but watchful.

"Here. And it is final," stated Briones very satisfied, handing him the verdict.

De la Vega started to read. Monastario watched his eyes widening… and suddenly the _haciendado_ choked with something that could be only the outburst of laughter, unsuccessfully masked with cough.

Monastario ripped the page from his hand and began to read it himself. He blinked a few times, wiped his temple and he looked at the page once more. No, it was not an illusion.

There were no charges of treason in the sentence. There was a prolonged and complicated story of the neighbors' feud, starting from the quarrels about the border between the ranchos, then some missing cattle, then offences and scrimmage and… The whole story was too complicated, Monastario couldn't make heads or tails of it. His eyes quickly ran to the end.

The verdict was that… that it was no concern of the army how Señor Torres and Señor de la Vega solve their conflict. Both _haciendados_ were to settle their business alone – or issue the case under the civilian jurisdiction.

What the hell was it?

De la Vega took the verdict from his hand, hiding it in his pocket. Monastario allowed him, still stupefied. He checked the documents, didn't he? Maybe it was… some misunderstanding, some of Pina's sketches that he accidentally put amidst the pages for Briones?

"No, no, it must be some mistake. Wait here, _por favour_ ," the _commandante_ said hectically to the _coronel_ , who shrugged his shoulders as if saying 'I am not going anywhere!'.

Monastario ran to his study and quickly searched through his desk… Was it possible that he opened the wrong drawer, took the wrong folder… but he could swear he had only one… As he opened the lowest drawer, he froze.

He didn't mistake the folders.

The original verdict calmly lay in the lowest drawer… only that now there was a big, black 'Z' drawn on it.

How impudent can the man be?...

Monastario grinded his teeth and grabbed the page, ready to run to Briones and show him the proof of the deception…. when suddenly he stooped.

Was complaining to the _coronel_ for the masked bandit messing with the papers in Monastario's desk, in the middle of his well-protected _cuartel_ , really the smartest idea? If someone is not able to guard his quarters, how can he be trusted with the task of guarding the pueblo?

And what a beautiful story it would be for the _coronel_ to tell the governor!

' _Commandante Monastario has made big savings in the cuartel… now he has the bandits to serve as his secretaries!...'_ he almost heard Briones' jovial voice and laughter.

_They wouldn't stop mocking me till judgment day,_ thought Monastario with desperation _._

Suddenly, the quiet rustle near the doors drew his attention and he raised his eyes… just to see de la Vega, who entered the study and cautiously closed the door behind him.

"That explains a lot," said quietly Alejandro pointing at the page with the big "Z" that Monastario kept.

The _commandante_ threw him a bit unconscious, furious glance.

"So, what are you going to do now, Monastario? Go to your superior and admit that you do not have even that much control over your district to know what kind of documents lay in your own desk? You will be finished if you do it," Alejandro spoke quietly, yet in his voice the mockery fought for first place with self-confidence.

_I cannot do it and he knows it,_ realized Monastario in helpless anger. _The only thing I can do now is to set Torres free…"_

'I will find the way to acquit you in the name of the law' – in the _commandante's_ tormented mind sounded the voice of the masked bandit.

Oh, damn it!

Monastario crumpled the paper he kept, throwing it into the basket and lowered his head, giving up, fighting to suppress the fury he never felt before…

Suddenly, he turned to de la Vega, who witnessed his inner fight and failure.

"One day you will pay me for it, Alejandro," hissed Monastario. "You and that black bastard you recruited."

"I didn't recruit anyone. You simply have more opponents than you thought, Monastario," replied Alejandro with a light chuckle.

His laughter brought into Monastario's mind some unsettling associations, some very unpleasant reminiscences… but he couldn't put his finger on them.

The _commandante_ took a deep breath. _Calm down. Play the game, and wait for another occasion,_ he ordered himself and exited the room.

"So, you have found yourself in your papers, Enrique?" asked merrily _Coronel_ Briones.

"Yes, and everything is in perfect order. I am sorry for my earlier behavior, I am afraid I misjudged my tolerance to wine," replied smoothly Monastario.

"Ha, I always say that weak-headed men shouldn't even start the proper feast!" exclaimed the _coronel_ raising the goblet, not noticing the bitterness in his host's voice. "Now, if our troublesome gentlemen accept the verdict, there is no need for them to…"

"Oh, yes, of course we accept," nodded quickly Alejandro.

"We do? But…" surprised, Torres turned to him sharply.

"Yes," Alejandro cut him off, opening the door. "Good bye, _Coronel_ , have a nice evening, we won't… trouble you anymore." He turned his head, hiding the small smile and pulled his friend out, muttering: "I will explain to you outside."

Monastario looked behind them helplessly clenching his fists, until _Coronel_ Briones pulled his arm.

"Can we continue? Or do you fell unwell after this droplet of wine you drank?" he guffawed.

_As the matter of fact, I do. I do feel very unwell. And if this buffoon touches me once again, coronel or not, I will break his nose,_ thought gloomily Monastario returning to the table.

* * *

It was dark and quiet in the cellar; after some time – long time – the silence and stillness of the room calmed Pina to such degree, that he thought he could actually try to free himself.

After one shy attempt of getting the rope off of his wrists, he quickly resigned. As the matter of fact, he wasn't eager to leave the safety of the small, calm chamber. Who knew what was happening outside?

'Just wait here quietly, _Licenciado,_ and no harm will come to you,' said the bandit leaving and Pina clung to these words, finding them strangely reassuring. Yes, he will just wait for someone to free him, hoping that till that time the whole affair will be over.

On the second hand, he probably should try to get out and warn Monastario… but who could say what exactly were the plans of the Fox for this evening? What if he was still in the _licenciado's_ office? Or if there was a fight of some kind, or something?

No. It was not Pina's task to fight with bandits. He will just calmly wait, enjoying the fact that he survived, alive and unharmed.

The _licenciado_ tried to sit more comfortably and closed his eyes waiting in darkness, too scared and tired to make any reflections on today's events.

When the lock in the door grated and the light of the lantern intruded into his eyes, for a moment he stiffened in panic, fearing that the masked bandit returned for some reason… yet after the moment he heard Monastario's voice:

"So, here you are," said the _commandante_ , slowly descending the stairs.

The relief Pina felt lasted very shortly. If Zorro succeeded in spoiling Monastario's plan, the _commandante_ will be furious… and he will surely blame Pina for his part in the failure…

Monastario for a moment stood motionlessly with the lantern in his hand, until he freed Pina from the bounds and gag.

"It was the Fox," said Pina quickly, crumbling to his feet.

"I know," replied Monastario dryly and exited the cellar.

The _licenciado_ followed him clumsily, trying to suppress the quivering of his legs.

"What happened outside?"

"You know what you wrote so you may guess what happened," stated Monastario in the same tone as before.

The reproaches, of course. Pina sighed, sat behind his desk and poured himself some brandy, preparing for the difficult conversation. _He could at least ask if I am fine,_ he thought with bitterness.

Well, it would be definitely too much to expect compassion from Monastario. It was good enough that he so far didn't start yelling… as a matter of fact the _commandante_ was strangely calm.

"The Fox changed the verdicts, you didn't check them and the _Coronel_ signed… the wrong one?" Pina asked quietly.

"I did check them," Monastario only shrugged his shoulders, "but too early. And yes, Briones signed the wrong one."

"And?..." Pina didn't dare to look at his superior. "What did you do?"

"And what could I do?" finally there was some strangled anger in Monastario's tone. "I had to pretend everything is fine, say goodbye to Torres and continue the supper with this glutton, as if nothing happened."

"I am sorry," muttered Pina with his gaze fixed in the floor.

"Oh, really? I can't see any clues indicating that you put up a good fight here, _Licenciado_ ," smirked Monastario looking around the room and before Pina managed to protest, turned to him, adding:

"If this paper hadn't been in your handwriting… I would have probably noticed it before Briones started to read it. If you weren't so obliging to this bandit, I might not have fallen into his trap!"

"I told you I am sorry! I could do nothing, he kept the blade on my neck!" exclaimed Pina with outrage.

"Really?" repeated only Monastario with the same ironic smirk.

Pina looked at him surprised. He knew how unpredictable Monastario could be when he searched for someone to wreck out his frustration, but this... this was something more that his usual tell-offs.

The _licenciado_ started to repeat his excuses but Monastario silenced him raising his hand.

"You know, Tomás," he started casually and yet Pina felt the cold creeps, hearing his tone, "When this… catastrophe happened and I sat with Briones dreaming about getting rid of his company… after a while it occurred to me that if the false verdict was in your handwriting, it meant that the Fox must have paid you a visit and forced you to write it… And that he might have killed you after that. I even felt concerned about you," Monastario shook mockingly his head and finished looking straight into Pina's eyes: "And then I started to wonder whether perhaps… he didn't have to force you to anything."

At first the _licenciado_ couldn't understand the meaning of these words.

"What… what are you saying?" was everything he managed to utter.

"That perhaps you helped him out of your own free will, Tomás. Maybe even it was all your idea," explained Monastario very, very politely.

Pina finally realized that it was not the calm that made Monastario behave with such restraint… but that he was tensed with rage.

"You are saying that I am working with the Fox?" Pina whispered desperately trying to gather his thoughts.

"Or that he is working with you," précised Monastario. He moved closer and Pina unwittingly stood up, trying to face his superior, as he continued: "Admit, _licenciado_ , doesn't it look a bit strange? You go for your trip to Santa Barbara, bring me some vague news about strange people talking to you… and then each plan we make together turns into failure."

"It was not me, it was this Zorro…" Pina started hectically, but Monastario spoke further as if he didn't hear him.

"Now you helped this bandit so eagerly, claiming to be forced… And I find you here, indeed bound and gagged, but so… politely that there is not even one bruise on your skin. Really, _licenciado_ , I start to believe that I took your loyalty too much for granted," the _commandante_ finished and suddenly Pina realised that right now he is much closer to death then he was during the visit of the masked bandit.

"I didn't betray you, I swear," he said quietly and, though fear paralysed him, tried to keep Monastario's sight. "I don't know who the Fox is and I don't know how he learnt about our plan. I swear."

For a moment they stood in silence that prolonged, making the _licenciado_ painfully aware of the ticking of the clock. Monastario was making his decision now… and each second could be Pina's last one.

Finally the _commandante_ stepped back a little and the tension on his face faded a little.

"All right. I believe you… for now," he nodded and turned back to leave the room without one more word.

_He is not convinced,_ thought Pina with despair. He had the feeling of the ground sliding from his feet. He couldn't afford losing Monastario's support, without him, he would be left alone in the town where everyone… hated him.

And besides… well, calling Monastario a friend would be far, far too much – yet he was the closest man to the friend Pina had here. And right now, he just… he felt so… he needed…

"Please, can't you stay for a moment? We should talk," he called behind Monastario nervously.

"If you are scared to be left alone, I can send some lancers to guard you," replied Monastario in a tone that added some double meaning to his last words.

Pina ignored his threat. He wasn't feeling scared… well, not only scared. He was simply feeling awful.

"No, I meant that… we should talk, discuss what to do next and…"

Monastario turned to him and seeing the coldness in his eyes Pina understood that if he wanted to talk with some understanding soul to regain his confidence… he couldn't have chosen worse.

"Even if you helped this bandit only out of your cowardice, if I stay with you any longer, I'll simply rip you apart into pieces," hissed Monastario and left the room, giving the _licenciado_ alone to his gloomy thoughts.

* * *

Monastario exited Pina's office and for a moment he just stood in the cool night's air. The night was beautiful, it could have been such a great evening! Instead…

His attention drew the noises from the tavern, unusually for such late hour lightened and crowded. Judging from the merry laughters, the whole _cabildo_ was just having a very informal meeting, celebrating Torres' release.

_If Alejandro tells them how that rascal fooled me…_ thought bitterly Monastario and almost moaned. Of course he will tell them! Why shouldn't he?

The commandante felt once again that he is boiling with helpless anger.

No. No. He might admit being defeated… but definitely not being helpless. Instead of pitying himself as the chided boy, he should prepare the plan that will crush this masked bandit and everyone who aided him.

Monastario's first impulse was to go to Pina and start planning the next stroke… but he reminded himself that he shouldn't confide any new plan to Pina… at least not until he proves that the _licenciado_ has no hidden agenda.

For the first time in his life Monastario felt… lonesome.

He couldn't trust the lancers. He couldn't trust Pina. His enemy could be anywhere.

"Oh, damn it," suddenly Monastario heard silent curse in the darkness. He turned his head in this direction and noticed Alejandro's son. The young man must have walked too near to the horses' hitching post and in the darkness stepped into some remnants the animals left here. Now he tried to clean the shoe with the end of his walking stick with the expression of disgust of his face.

Yet, when he noticed Monastario, he immediately straightened with polite smile.

" _Buenas noches, Capitán_! Beautiful night, isn't it? I hope that you had a pleasurable supper. Oh, and I wanted to thank you for releasing Don Ignatio. I told my father that you always have the good comprehension of the situation. The only thing I do not understand is why this verdict…"

"Not a word more, Señor. Not a word more, or else…" half moaned, half gnarled Monastario and strode toward the _cuartel_ , leaving the surprised dandy behind him.

However, as he was reaching the gate, he regretted being so harsh with this freak. After all, instead of celebrating with his father and their friends, he was also wandering through darkness.

After all, he was alone too.


	4. Vultures appear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the commandante makes a deal with strangers but then resigns.  
> Unfortunately, two wrongs don't make the right

"We are searching for the bandit who calls himself _el Zorro_ ," recited Monastario for the twentieth time this morning. "Have you seen him? He wears a mask and rides the black horse. Generally, he is all in black."

Two pitch-burners exchanged unsure glances. They must have started their work some time ago and now they all, except for the whites of their eyes, were… pitch black. The men looked at the _commandante_ , then once again glanced at themselves and made small step back.

"What I meant was that he wears black clothes," Monastario explained wearily. "Cape, hat, mask and so on. If you happen to see him, or hear anything about him, come immediately to the _cuartel_. There is high reward for his capture." He tried to make a friendly facial expression, but the result only scared the workers even more. They nodded quickly in agreement, yet seeing their frightened glances Monastario knew, they will never come to the _cuartel_ freely.

 _And what are they so afraid about?_ he muttered irritated. _One time I need their help, everyone only looks at me as if I was going to eat them alive!_

The _commandante_ sighed wondering what to do next. They spent the whole morning searching for the people that might have heard something about the hiding of the Fox. This time they didn't visit the haciendas, only wandered through hills, between the shacks of shepherds, woodcutters, pitch-burners. They even visited some of the Gypsies' huts. Yet the dwellers of the wilderness heard about the bandit as much as the _rancheros_ … it means nothing. Everywhere they appeared, the only reaction was scared faces and quick denials.

Now the sun was high, the heat was getting hard to bear and the fumes of the pitch – suffocating. The lancers didn't dare to complain, but Monastario felt their pleading gazes, as they tried to cover their faces or catch the flurries of wind bringing some fresh air. Besides, the horses were tired too. Monastario patted the neck of his white mount, now almost greyed from sweat and dust.

"All right, we are coming back!" he shouted and headed for the shortcut through hills that would take them far from the pitch lakes sooner than the highway.

When the first bitterness of failure in his last match with the Fox faded, Monastario decided that the most important thing now was the proper setting of his priorities. It meant that Torres could wait. De la Vega could wait. All the rebellious _haciendados_ in the district could wait. The first and most important thing was getting rid of the masked bandit.

The _commandante_ started the regular hunt by the book – questioning the dwellers of the hills and sierra, the most probable routes of the Fox to choose while setting off for his attacks. So far, the results were less than miserable, but Monastario didn't lose hope. If the black clad masker wasn't the ghost… he must have lived somewhere, mustn't he? And he must have some place to hide his horse…

Suddenly Monastario's mount roared, as the colourful figure appeared amidst the rocks in front of them. The _commandante_ tightened the reins and neared to the men strolling through the hills.

And what was that dandy doing here, in the middle of the rocky, dry hills, all alone – well, not counting for his mute servant? Damn, the _commandante_ kept forgetting to ask the sergeant about his name.

"Buenos dias, Señor! What brings you here?" asked Monastario leaning from the horseback.

"Buenos dias, _Capitán_ ," de la Vega bowed with courtesy, as if they had just met in some boulevard in Madrid. "Oh, just a walk."

"A walk?" Monastario narrowed his eyes and looked around. True, they were somewhere at the borders of the de la Vega rancho, but still too far from the hacienda to go on foot… and he couldn't see the horses anywhere nearby.

"Yes, you know _Capitán_ , recently I have considered returning to painting, so, I went for a walk to find suitable place for some small landscape…" chattered merrily the young man. "My first attempts in that field weren't too successful, but… one should not give up too soon, don't you think, _Capitán_?'

"Certainly," agreed politely Monastario and quickly rushed his mount. Painting! Maybe Pina was… the enthusiast of painting, but definitely not the _commandante_.

Suddenly Monastario halted. When he turned once more to the young man, his voice was full of suspicion:

"I do not know much about the art of painting, but does not one need a canvas and colours to it?"

He watched Alejandro's son cautiously, more and more intrigued by this unexpected meeting and his unusual appearance. No, the young man definitely had no painting utensils with him. Neither hat, jacket or one of his scarfs he used to tie in so fancy knots. As the matter of fact, right now he didn't look foppish at all. And who goes for a walk on such hot day without a hat?

"As for now I want only to choose a suitable place," replied carelessly the young man, unmoved by this examination and, when Monastario kept looking at him, added after a while: "You know, _Capitán_ , if I manage to do well with the landscapes, perhaps I will move to human models. Maybe you would like to offer me some time and pose?"

"Pose?" replied unsurely Monastario, totally thrown off balance with than unexpected offer.

"Yes, to a portrait," explained de la Vega patiently. "You know, Capitán, these uniforms are quite picturesque. I don't warrant the results, but…"

Portrait! In the uniform, with the distinctions!… Like _Coronel_ Vasquez in his quarters in Monterey!... Well, that would be something… Monastario's suspicions were washed away by the reveries flattering his pride in the most pleasing way.

"We may talk about it someday," he replied as casually as he could, doing his best to suppress the dreamy smile. Then he looked almost cordially at the young man and, seeing his reddened cheeks and sweaty temple, added with care: "You should be cautious, Señor. At this time of the day the sun here can be quite dangerous."

"I certainly will. Gracias," replied de la Vega smiling and raised the hand to salute the leaving lancers.

* * *

Pina decided that in his situation setting the priorities in the proper order was crucial. Without Monastario's support he had nothing to look for in Los Angeles – and the _licendciado_ didn't want to leave this calm, cozy pueblo. Well, at least it used to be calm and cozy, till this black clad madman chose to interfere…

Anyway, the most important thing now was to convince the _commandante_ about Pina's loyalty, and that could be done only in one way – by revealing the Fox's identity. So, no matter how… disgusting was the idea of messing with bandits in general and with _el Zorro_ in particular, Pina decided he had to discover whose face was hidden behind the black mask.

That was why, even if there were several delayed cases Pina could take care of, he barely looked at the direction of his desk and returned to the armchair under the window. All cases and letters could wait. Right now, there was nothing more important than sitting under the window and watching the plaza.

That was how Pina intended to expose the Fox.

Of course he didn't think even once about mounting the horseback and hauling through the hills like some moonstruck idiot. What was the use of chasing the Fox in the sierra that was his home?

No, it was much wiser to wait calmly, until the Fox will leave his rocky hiding and come to the pueblo.

And it was certain that he will come. If Zorro was so well informed about everything what was happening in the _cuartel_ – or even in Monastario's quarters – it meant that either he, or someone of his accomplices, must have visited the pueblo quite often. So he will come again, sooner or later, to gather the news…

He will come without the mask, pretending to be one of these kindly, busy people bustling around at the pueblo… one of the sheep as Monastario would call them.

 _Yet the fox in the sheep skin is still the fox,_ smirked Pina.

His behaviour will betray him. He will look innocent but act suspicious, staying much longer than necessary to take care of the business he will be pretending to do… He will ask questions and observe… He will be too inquisitive and too watchful – and finally Pina will notice him. It was enough to watch and wait.

The clatter of the horses' hoofs filled the plaza and passer-byes quickly jumped aside to avoid trampling, but Pina barely moved. Of course it was Monastario, returning with his lancers – oh, and, what a surprise, empty-handed again…

The _licenciado's_ malicious amusement was interrupted by the loud voices and angry curses just under his office. He stood up and leant over the window to see the reason of the quarrel.

Two riders, some newcomers to the pueblo, passed too near the stall with the tanned skins, catching on the counter and almost ruining the construction. The vendor barked at them using the most pictorial insults, not caring neither for the weapons nor the proud faces of the strangers.

Their faces…

Pina froze, leaning further outside to see them more precisely… and burst out of his office.

* * *

Monastario was to ride through the cuartel's gate when the noise on the other side of the plaza drew his attention. He turned and noticed two strangers, exchanging insults with the stall-keeper. Interesting, they looked extremely well-prepared for the long journey… Each of them carried the small arsenal of weapons: apart from swords and pistols behind their belts, they had also rifles fastened to the saddlebags... One, agitated with a quarrel, reached for the coiled whip that hung by his saddle.

 _Newcomers and so haughty!_ Monastario narrowed his eyes, irritated that someone is proceeding so boldly in his pueblo. He waved for Garcia and pointed him the strangers.

"Sergeant, these two seem to need the lesson of manners… Go and remind them that all newcomers have to report themselves at the _cuartel_ and if they do not do it immediately, they might spend in its walls much longer than they intended. Then question them… thoroughly."

The _commandante_ watched with satisfaction as two arrogant travellers calmed themselves immediately seeing the lancer's uniform. They quickly dismounted and nodded politely during the talk with Garcia.

Monastario smiled looking around. It was good when the people have the proper respect for the army… oh, well, for him. Yet, when his eyes fell on the wanted poster hanging at the _cuartel's_ wall, satisfied expression disappeared from his face and his sight darkened, as he reminded himself that not everyone here treated him with due respect. The end had to be put to it as soon as possible, no matter the costs.

" _Capitán_?" Sergeant Garcia approached him, "these men would like to speak to you. They plan to open some business here and want to ask for your approval."

"What kind of business?" asked obliviously Monastario, still looking at the poster.

"Gunsmith workshop."

"All right. Tell them they may come to my office in a few minutes," nodded the _commandante_ and added: "After that you will change these posters, Sergeant. I am raising the reward for _el Zorro_ to one thousand pesos."

"Change the posters? All of them? But, _Capitán_ , they didn't hang even one week! It is not so easy to…" stuttered pitifully Garcia, but Monastario only sent him one glance, clearly indicating he is not in the mood to repeat his orders and the sergeant quickly silenced and marched toward the newcomers once again.

The _commandante_ finally managed to tear his eyes from the poster and rushed his horse into the _cuartel's_ yard, when breathless Pina appeared by his side.

"What do you want, _Licenciado_?" asked coldly Monastario.

"These men," Pina nodded toward the two strangers, "these are the people that talked to me in Santa Barbara."

Monastario leant toward him, for a moment forgetting his grudge to the lawyer.

"Gunsmiths? You got so scared of the gunsmiths?" he asked incredulously.

"If they are the gunsmiths, then Sergeant Garcia is the Fox," snorted Pina.

"Bad joke," Monastario cut him off dryly, yet eyed the strangers once more. Their clothes were very fine, their horses must have cost a small fortune… "But perhaps you are right…" he whispered. "I will talk with them."

"You want me to be present during this conversation?" asked Pina trying to seem casual, yet Monastario could easily notice how tensed he was.

"No, thank you, _Licenciado_ ," he replied and left.

* * *

"Señor López and Señor Ramírez, respected gunsmiths from San Francisco," Monastario read the credentials the two strangers gave him, with slightly amused smile indicating to them that he believed neither in their names, nor in profession. "Now you decided to move your business to our small pueblo… Before we discuss it, Señores, I want to hear the real aim of your visit here. I know that you spoke with my associate in Santa Barbara."

Monastario came straight to the point, hoping to throw his visitors off balance with the direct attack. Yet, his words seemed to have made little impression. One of them, who at the beginning of the conversation sat quietly aside, didn't even raise his eyes from the floor. The other, who presented himself as Ramírez, kept Monastario's glance unconfused even a little.

"True," he replied calmly. "We wanted to learn about you as much as we could, _Capitán_. We wanted to make sure, whether you are… a right man. And everything we heard seems to indicate, that you are."

The way he smiled after these words made Monastario wonder what exactly did they hear about him.

"A right man? To what?" he asked sharply.

"To join us."

Monastario should feel impatient with the enigmatic answers of the stranger, yet something in the tone in which they were spoken raised rather his curiosity than anger.

"And who are you?"

"We are… we are something you could call a…" his interlocutor hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word – and then López chimed in finishing smoothly:

"A company of friends."

 _So cautious…_ crossed through the _commandante's_ mind. _They do not boast. They would rather fail than say one word too much. There must be something in it, something more than a simple cheat._

"Who belongs to that company?" he asked slowly.

"That we cannot tell you yet, _Capitán_ , but you may be sure we are able to help you achieve everything you long for," the suave reply was to finish the subject of the members of mysterious association, when suddenly López added in a strange tone, tempting and inquiring at the same time.

"And we know what you long for, _Capitán_. Power, isn't it? You are a bold and ambitious man. These are the qualities we appreciate."

Monastario turned to him surprised by the audacity of his words. The man finally raised his head meeting the _commandante's_ sight and continued quietly:

"Don't you feel you are surrounded by people who are far beneath you? Incompetent, lazy, stupid? Your soldiers, your… superiors? You could outdo them all. Haven't you dreamt about the opportunity to show your real qualities?"

These words… oh, how unsettling they were! This man seemed to know and understand all of Monastario's feelings and intentions, the reasons for everything he did, what he intended to do… The _commandante_ noticed clearly that small remark about his superiors. It was as if someone was reading the deepest secrets of his soul.

And that was the first mistake of the two strangers.

Monastario hated the very same idea of someone reading his soul.

"The last time I heard so many compliments was when some old swindler was trying to sell me the moldered saddles. Needless to say, it didn't finish good for him. You'd better be more precise, Señores," he hissed with a strangled anger.

Two men exchanged glances and for the first time their confidence seemed to waver a little.

"Unfortunately, we cannot – not yet. We have to get to know each other better, _Capitán_ , before we entrust you with the details."

"Well then, if you are so cautious with defining your offer, don't wonder that I am not very impressed with it," said Monastario standing up, ready to finish the conversation. He wasn't some naïve fool, eager to swallow the hook with no more than few sweet words on it.

Ramírez raised his hand, stopping him.

"But you will be. Time will prove there are the reasons to be impressed with…" he hesitated once more and his companion finished for him again with sly smile:

"Our company."

"All we want now is to stay here to… develop and deepen our cooperation. It will cost you nothing and you will see that it will pay off in the future."

Always when Monastario heard that something will cost him nothing, his watchfulness immediately doubled. These two definitely didn't look like the members of charity association. Maybe they really could help him to advance in his career… but they would certainly want something in return. Was it wise to accept them, not knowing the price for the cooperation?

Monastario hesitated. No, these were not some common cheaters. Did he need in his pueblo mysterious strangers with hidden agenda and unknown connections? Right now he had the almost absolute power here. Did he want to share it?

"And if I refuse?" he asked coldly.

"Then we will return some time later… Only that you will be not one of our friends. You will gain nothing and you might lose a lot," replied the man in front of him, his polite expression suddenly darkened.

"You have chosen the wrong man to threaten," smirked Monastario and headed for the door to call for lancers to throw these men out, when López quickly stood up in front of him:

"My friend used the wrong words. It is not the threat, only the invitation. We need you, _Capitán_ , consider our proposal. A wise man does not blindly reject any occasion to achieve his goals," he persuaded hastily.

His humility calmed Monastario a bit. It was true, maybe these two and their friends were the threat, but a wise man knew how to turn the threat into the chance. And Monastario always considered himself a wise man.

Seeing that his word made a desired impression, López handed him a small leather bundle.

"What is it?" asked Monastario taking the object. He couldn't feel through the leather what was inside.

"A sign that lets us recognize each other. Take it, _Capitán_."

Monastario deliberately didn't open the bundle, only carelessly placed it on the shelf. He didn't make his decision yet. He was not going to show these men they managed to catch his interest.

"So, you want to stay here and open some business?" he asked retuning to the previous subject.

"Exactly."

"But the gunsmith workshop? It won't be profitable. The blacksmith takes care about the guns here, he even makes the simpler rifles for natives and peons. And the richer ones prefer to buy their weapons from the foreign traders."

"We need that workshop…" started Ramírez, but his companion interrupted him quickly, sending him reproachful glance:

"Your blacksmith won't be a problem. We have his bill for the loan he took some time ago. He won't be able to repay it, so his forge is ours."

"Oh, so, less troubles for you then," Monastario obliviously shrugged his shoulders.

"Actually, there might be a small problem here we will need your help to deal with," stated slowly López. "The blacksmith claims he doesn't remember signing the bill."

Monastario stood silently for a moment.

"But you have just arrived. You haven't talked with him yet."

He waited for their answer, but the two men simply sat in silence, looking straight at Monastario, not abashed even a little.

"Well, that changes the situation," the _commandante_ said after a while.

"Does it really change it so much, _Capitán_?" asked López with knowing smile. Or rather impudent.

"Oh, yes, it does. You come here bringing some misty promises and when we speak about details the only real thing is the false bill you want me to execute. Isn't it reasonable to start to doubt your story?" replied Monastario with the same expression.

"Perhaps… but wouldn't it be wiser to rely on your intuition?" López raised questioningly his eyebrows.

"My intuition tells me not to trust people who want present services in exchange for future favours," retorted Monastario.

López sighed and sat more comfortably, as if he was prepared for such turn of the conversation from its beginning. Then he stated with ease indicating great practice in such proposals:

"Let's talk about present favours then, _Capitán_. I believe that the forge pays the taxes for the _cuartel_? I am sure that with proper management these taxes could be raised… to the most satisfying amount."

Monastario smiled widely, at last feeling that the conversation led him to the well-known ground.

"And that is finally the subject we can pursue further," he stated and returned to his desk, ready to start the negotiations.

* * *

 _How much longer can it take?_ thought Pina impatiently, sending anxious glances in the direction of the _cuartel_ , where Monastario talked with the alleged gunsmiths. _What do they want from him?_

The _licenciado_ tried to reason with his own nervousness. Whatever… crooks, blackmailers or swindlers these men were, they have chosen Monastario as their aim. The _commandante_ will get rid of them in the more or less definite way – or enter into business with them, depending on their persuasion and his humour. Theoretically, there was nothing so unusual in this affair. Many of the most peculiar individuals wandered through California trying to find the partner to some fishy deals. These two were just one of them.

Nevertheless, Pina couldn't get rid of the impression that something very important was happening right now. He looked impatiently around but his gaze met nothing more than the blue sunny sky and houses around the plaza decorated with bright flowers in clay pots. The day was hot, the colours sharp, there was no single cloud over the horizon… And still, he shivered with unpleasant feeling as if he sensed some very dark danger hanging over this merry picture. The other people on the plaza were occupied with their daily routine, hurrying with their business, eager to find the hiding from the sun as soon as possible… Pina felt strangely lonely in his gloomy premonitions.

"Buenos dias _, Licenciado!"_ called someone merrily and Pina returned the welcome, bowing to the young de la Vega, who just arrived to the pueblo and was tethering his horse to the hitching post under the tavern. Then the young man looked around as if wondering what to do next and his face beamed as he spotted Sergeant Garcia, who stood under the wall, contemplating the Fox's wanted poster.

Pina observed them obliviously for a moment. De la Vega must have proposed visiting in the tavern, but the sergeant shook his head and pointed at the poster. Then two men engaged in the vivid discussion.

 _I wonder how it would be to have nothing to do and nothing to worry about, like this young one,_ thought nostalgically Pina. _True, perhaps with time it would get boring, but right now I wouldn't mind a few carefree days…_

"Buenos dias _, Licenciado_ ," he heard suddenly just behind him the words spoken in the voice much different from the merry greetings of de la Vega. "Could you spare us a moment?"

Pina turned back to face two men who just left the _cuartel_ and wordlessly nodded. Carefree life was out of his reach. Something was happening here and he was just in the middle of it.

"We will come to your office in about half an hour," said one of them. "First we have to settle some business with the blacksmith."

* * *

When Señores Ramírez and López finally left his office, Monastario decided that after such busy day he deserved some rest… preferably in the tavern. He peeked through the window – it already cooled enough to have a dinner, so the _commandante_ exited slowly the _cuartel_ , heading for the inn. Near its wall, just under the wanted poster of _el Zorro,_ he saw Sergeant Garcia chatting with the young de la Vega.

 _Already here? Does this youth have nothing else to do than boring himself from one place to another? Probably not,_ he stated obliviously. Well, the young one could afford it. Garcia however… had work to be done.

"Sergeant!" Monastario ordered sharply nearing to them. "I told you to change these posters and you didn't even take off the old ones!"

Abashed, the sergeant looked at his young companion as if seeking support. De la Vega nodded assuringly and Garcia, gathering his courage, stepped forward.

" _Capitán_ ," he started with hesitation, but then recited quickly. "This Zorro is such dangerous bandit and people are not eager to help us in catching him. I have been wondering whether we shouldn't raise the reward even more… to one thousand and five hundred pesos."

Monastario for a moment stood surprised with the unexpected display of the sergeant's initiative. On the other hand… why not? He wanted the reward to be high enough to tempt even the _haciendados_.

"All right," he nodded. "Just do it still today!"

"I will, _mí_ _Capitán_ ," replied quickly the lancer and turned to de la Vega with very content expression. The young man bowed to Monastario, simultaneously winking to the Garcia.

"You see, Sergeant," he said quietly, "now you even do not have to take them off the wall. Just bring the paint and brush."

Monastario shook his head. What a strange match these two were! What common subjects they could possibly have, this dull soldier and idle popinjay? Well, it could be worse. The young de la Vega could have turned out to be a man like his father. Instead… he might be weird, but harmless and even funny.

Suddenly, Monastario's glance passed by the Vine Street. He could still spot two dark figures heading for the smithy… Good, the newcomers had to speak with the blacksmith first, before they officially ask the _commandante_ for the eviction. For a moment, Monastario wondered whether he made the right decision.

 _I might have just made the pact with the devil, but that does not scare me_ , he thought with pensiveness. _I have cheated devils before. The problem is I know neither the subject of this contract, nor the price… I even do not know whom I signed it with…_

 _Oh, whatever,_ he shrugged his shoulders, shaking off troubling reflections. _Right now, it is only a smithy. I'll still be able to throw them out each moment I find it suitable._

The little commotion near him drew his attention. Sergeant Garcia and Alejandro's son were again standing under the poster, the sergeant now keeping the brush and trying to paint something on it. Yet, his hand wavered a little as he struggled to catch the desirable angle for the stroke.

"It is not that easy when it is hanging on the wall, Don Diego," he complained.

"Let me help you," offered the young man taking the brush and with smooth gesture painted the neat "one" in front of five hundred, that stood at the announcement till that moment..

"Perfect," he commented, admiring the poster with very content expression.

"Now it is exactly as it had to be, one thousand five hundred," he stated merrily and added with ardor, "Come, Sergeant, let's take care about the rest of them."

"Perhaps you could add here some drawing, Don Diego?" pleaded pitifully Corporal Reyes, who suddenly appeared behind their backs.

Monastario shook his head again and quickly retreated to the tavern.

* * *

"It is good to meet you again, _Licenciado_. We were surprised not to see you during our conversation with _Commandante_ Monastario," said politely Señor Ramírez, sitting in front of Pina's desk.

"Welcome, Señores," replied carefully Pina, deciding not to comment on the remark about his absence in Monastario's office. "What brings you here? During our last encounter I got the impression that you are not going to visit Los Angeles so soon."

"Our business is proceeding better than we expected," stated the man enigmatically and Pina understood he won't obtain more precise explanation.

He raised the carafe with wine and when his guests nodded, filled the glasses. Only after handing them, he asked as casually as he could:

"So, are you satisfied with the results of this conversation with the _capitán_?"

Señor Ramírez smirked, raising the glass to his mouth.

"Your _commandante_ is so smug that it makes the simplest talk rather difficult, but…" he hesitated and hanged his voice for a moment.

"But greed is eternal," finished sententiously the second man, smiling in such way that Pina immediately realised Monastario did something very stupid.

He swallowed hardl and, not sure how to reply, returned to his desk. The silence prolonged and the _licenciado_ felt more and more unsure with each second. The man who introduced himself as Ramírez simply drank the wine and looked through the window, but the second one didn't tear his eyes from Pina, evidently enjoying his confusion.

Finally, he leant to the _licenciado_ and said quietly:

"Why don't you tell us something about this lovely pueblo?"

Pina knew life well enough to immediately recognise behind this simple question a very complex proposition.

What shall he do? Theoretically, there was nothing directly… disloyal to Monastario in talking with these men from time to time… sharing some news with them… exchanging opinions…

Of course he knew precisely, it would be very, very disloyal.

So, Pina hesitated. He feared Monastario. And he admired him. But…

 _I am sorry, Enrique, but you put me in the position, where I desperately need friends…_ he thought bitterly and replied simply, just as it was expected:

"What are you interested in?"

"The pueblo. Its citizens. Your _commandante_. We heard that not everyone approves of the… changes the _capitán_ introduced since he took command."

"True. There are some who oppose him. If they are powerful and intelligent they can cause troubles… Like Torres, de la Vega, Esperón, Castrejana… Especially de la Vega, he is…" Pina wanted to say 'the leader', but stopped, not sure what consequences his words may have.

"Oh, yes, we already heard about Señor de la Vega…" nodded López with an indulgent smile. "Your _commandante_ chose the wrong approach. Men like de la Vega are very difficult to destroy. On the other hand, if properly controlled, they can turn out to be very useful."

"Well, I wish you luck with controlling him," muttered Pina ironically. Then, however, he froze, surprised by the sudden silence and knowing smiles of his guests.

"You have planned something?" he asked slowly.

López waved evasively his hand in the air.

"Let's just say that certain arrangements have already been made."

Pina furrowed his eyebrows. This conversation was getting more and more unsettling. He was sure that the deal the strangers wanted to make involved only Monastario… but now it seemed that it concerned the whole pueblo. The _licenciado_ felt the cold chill crawling down his spine.

"I have never asked you about your intentions here but…" he started hesitantly, yet López interrupted him before he managed to formulate the question.

"And that is what we really appreciate. That you didn't ask. Let's continue this way."

Pina gave up. He was right, something was happening here and it was very bad. Now he had to concentrate on surviving it.

That meant he had to prove useful.

He walked through the room and when he turned to his guests, he was fully composed:

"There is something else you might be interested in, something that Monastario definitely didn't tell you about," he started with consideration. "Have you seen the wanted posters in the pueblo?... Let me tell you about the problems our _capitán_ has with the man who calls himself _el Zorro…_ "

* * *

When his new friends offered Pina a joint dinner in the tavern after their conversation finished, he agreed. If they by accident meet Monastario… it will be even better. Perhaps the _commandante_ will realize that the _licenciado_ can still be a useful ally.

As soon as they left his office, Pina heard merry laughters behind their back: young de la Vega and Sergeant Garcia in the exquisite moods were heading in the same direction. They must have been returning from some peculiar escapade, as the sergeant kept the bucket with black paint and his uniform, hands and face looked as if he did his best to take a bath in it. De la Vega doggedly fought with one, hardly visible stain on his fair gloves.

When they neared to Pina and his companions, the young man looked curiously at the two strangers and then directed questioning glance at the sergeant. The fat man nodded. _Of course the people already started to gossip,_ thought Pina with slight discontent.

"We kept running across ourselves today, _Licenciado_ ," stated merrily de la Vega. "If you are also heading for the tavern, why don't we have a drink together? Of course with your guests," he smiled to the gunsmiths.

"With pleasure," replied politely López. "We would gladly like to start getting to know the citizens of this pueblo."

"Are you planning to stay here longer, Señores?" asked the young man, still struggling with the stubborn stain.

Before the newcomers managed to give the answer, quick steps sounded behind them and they heard the angry voice of the _alcalde_ :

"Señores! Are you the men intending to take over the forge?"

Pina stiffened. So, that was the business they had with the blacksmith. What was this all about?…

"True. We are going to take it as the repayment of debt your blacksmith has incurred by us."

"Paquito?" asked disbelievingly de la Vega, his merry smile suddenly gone.

"If that is how you call him," Ramírez nodded obliviously. "Francisco Pena, he borrowed money from us and didn't return it, so…"

"He says it is not true! He says he never borrowed any money from anyone!" shouted the _alcalde_.

"Is it so unexpected that he disclaims his obligations?" replied Ramírez, unmoved by the irritation of the old man.

"Paquito would never lie!" exclaimed Garcia with naïve surprise.

Ramírez smirked ironically, but de la Vega supported the sergeant with the most serious expression.

"Yes, it is not possible. We know Paquito very well, his wife was brought up at our hacienda. He never needed to borrow money."

He stated it so gravely that suddenly everyone, including the _alcalde_ , silenced. Pina wriggled anxiously realizing that the quarrel has just advanced on the more serious level.

Ramírez stepped in front of de la Vega.

"Are you saying that we are liars, Señor?" he asked with unpleasant glitter in his eyes.

"I am only saying that this bill cannot be authentic."

"And I am saying that it is," drawled slowly Ramírez.

"So, you have just answered the question you asked me a moment before," the young man shrugged his shoulders.

When the meaning of these words got to Ramírez, the man reddened with anger:

"Now, Señor," he moved scornful glance over de la Vega, "you should be more careful with your words if the sharpest thing you have with you is your tongue. Or am I mistaken and you would care to support your words with some action?" Ramírez smiled unpleasantly, ignoring the calming gesture of his companion.

"So, you would like to prove the authenticity of your bill with the piece of steel? How peculiar, I thought it should rather depend on the signature put on it," noticed ironically de la Vega.

"Now that's too much," gnarled Ramírez moving toward the young man, when the big figure of Sergeant Garcia blocked his way:

"Slowly, Señor! Calm yourself and don't try to threaten Don Diego in such way! Or in any other way." He added after moment of pensiveness and finished fiercely, charging at Ramírez with his prominent belly: "Is that clear?"

The paint in the bucket the sergeant kept bubbled menacingly and Ramírez quickly stepped back.

 _Like the brood hen defending the chicken!_ Pina looked at the scene not believing his eyes, both amused and surprised. He always saw the sergeant only as a fat idiot that Monastario pushed around, such demonstration of courage by him was more than unexpected… Judging from de la Vega's widely opened eyes, the young man was equally startled.

Ramírez turned to the sergeant obviously calculating his chances against the bucket, yet, before he did anything, López grabbed his arm:

"Leave the lancer," he hissed.

"Or what?" bridled his companion with fury in his eyes.

"What's happening here?" sounded sharp voice behind them. Seeing Monastario, both men immediately calmed, but the _alcalde_ stepped forward, agitated:

" _Capitán_ , have you heard that these men claim to have some debt of the blacksmith? It is some cheat, Paquito denies it."

"I have heard about it and I see no reason not to believe them. They have the bill, if the blacksmith cannot repay it, they can take over the smithy. That's all," stated coldly Monastario.

"You want to take over a smithy, Señores?" chimed in de la Vega, as if unaware that he just luckily escaped from very perilous situation. "And what do you intend to do with your pawn? The men with taste to such fine gloves as yours might not enjoy working over the anvil."

"Are you still trying to offend us, Señor?" hissed Ramírez, darkening afresh with ager.

"By saying that you have fine gloves?" the young man crooked innocently his head.

"Oh, I see you will soon find yourself in worse troubles than you can actually handle," Ramírez grinded his teeth.

This time Monastario stepped in front of him, waving his hand dismissively:

"Don't get so agitated. Señor de la Vega was only asking… only trying… Well, I am not sure what he was trying to do but it doesn't matter. The case is clear and there is no use in discussing it further in the middle of the plaza."

"Nothing is clear!" interrupted him the _alcalde_. "You are forgetting about the blacksmith, _Capitán_. We are not going to leave Paquito without our help."

"You have no right to deny Señores Ramírez and López their legitimate demands."

"But I have the right to examine them more precisely. We know Paquito from many years and this case is more than suspicious. He deserves that we at least make sure that these demands are really… legitimate."

"All right, so what do you propose?" sighed Monastario bored with the persistence of the old man.

"Let's listen to both sides and consider the arguments. I want that these… señores meet the blacksmith in my presence and repeat their story. That will allow me to give a just verdict."

Pina noticed how the eyes of Monastario and López met for a second. The alleged gunsmith almost imperceptibly shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"So be it then, we can meet this evening at the tavern," stated Monastario and added with malicious smirk: "But you will not be the one to take the decision, _Alcalde_."

The old man took deep breath, but didn't retort, deciding that the meeting was the only concession he could obtain from the _commandante_. So, he only turned to de la Vega and asked seriously:

"Don Diego, will you come too and repeat what you said to us a moment ago about Paquito? Your testimony may be of real importance."

The young man flinched, surprised by the proposition:

"Eh.. me? Tonight?... But… But I have already made other arrangements…" he stuttered clearly abashed, tugging his ear, averting the disappointed sight of the _alcalde_.

Pina shook his head. For a moment during this conversation he had a feeling that de la Vega really cared for the fate of the blacksmith, that he sincerely tried to help him, maybe even deliberately attempted to provoke Ramírez to lose his temper and show real intentions… Well, he was mistaken, giving the boy too much credit. _After all, why should he care for some craftsman?_ the _licenciado_ thought bitterly.

"Señor _Alcalde_ , I wouldn't be of much use anyway, I was absent so long," the young man excused himself hastily. "But I will pass the information to my father, he will gladly come and give the statement," he finished with relief.

" _Gracias_ , Don Diego. So, I will notify Paquito," nodded the old man and walked away.

De la Vega turned then to Garcia:

"I am afraid we will have to postpone our dinner for some other occasion. If you forgive me, Sergeant, I should speak to my father," he said and farewelled the gathered men with a slight bow.

"Oh, if that fop gets into my way once again…" muttered angrily Ramírez looking menacingly behind the young man, but López cut him off:

"Then you will smile and say 'good morning, Señor'. Haven't you heard his name?" he hissed.

After hearing that, Monastario and Pina involuntarily exchanged glances, for a moment united again in one thought: that the agenda of the two strangers who arrived today to the pueblo may be far beyond the imagination of both the _commandante_ and the _licenciado_.

* * *

When the time of the evening's meeting came, Monastario thought it would be good to take some lancer as an escort underlining his authority. At the yard he saw Garcia, but the sergeant was just in the middle of cleaning his uniform. How he managed to get it stained all over, when it was apparently the young de la Vega who exercised his skills with a brush on Zorro's posters, remained the sergeant's secret. As the paunchy soldier in a little greyed underpants and shirt would barely strengthen the solemnity of the _commandante's_ position, Monastario waved for Reyes.

"You go with me," he ordered and a slightly scared corporal followed him.

When they entered the tavern, the sala was already emptied of the guests and the _alcalde_ , in companion of Alejandro de la Vega and Cornelio Esperón, waited inside. Near them sat the very nervous blacksmith and on the other end of the table – Señores Ramírez and López, calm and scornfully indifferent.

"As we all know, we are here to decide about the claims concerning the alleged debt of Señor Pena," started the _alcalde_ , when Monastario took his place, but Ramírez interrupted him immediately:

"I didn't know that in this pueblo the rightful demands to reclaim one's property can be denied by the debtor's friend."

"I am the _alcalde_ of this pueblo," retorted strongly the old man, "and I have reasons to believe that your demands are unjustified. Señor Pena says he never even saw you, not mentioning taking any loan from you or signing any bill."

"That's true. I don't know these men," added fervently the blacksmith, but Ramírez didn't even look at him.

"It is not unusual that the debtor denies his obligations. Yet, we have his bill," he waved with the piece of paper. Alejandro stood up and reached for the document.

"It is signed with a cross," he noticed.

"It is not unusual as well," grinned Ramírez. "You can't write, Señor, can you?" he looked maliciously at the blacksmith and the man admitted gloomily.

"No, I cannot. But I have never signed such bill, with any mark."

"The signature is certified by _Magistrado_ Covas form Monterey," stated obliviously López. Alejandro looked once again at the paper and handed it to the _alcalde_ returning to his place with a lowered head.

"It is," he confirmed. "But still, it doesn't mean that this document is authentic. We all know Paquito since many years, we know him as an honest man, and, what's more, as the man who was never in need to borrow such amount of money. Why would he suddenly turn to strangers asking for…"

"A year ago he took the loan from us, that is all that interests me. It is not our business to ask for his reasons, Señor," Ramírez cut him off angrily.

"But it is our business to ask for yours," replied him Alejandro in the same tone, almost rising again from his place.

"Señor de la Vega, you are crossing the line!" said sharply Monastario. "You have the bill, authorized by the official we all know. You have no single reason to doubt its authenticity. Are you going now to object to justice out of your personal sympathies?"

De la Vega pierced him with angry glance:

"I would be more careful with calling for justice on your place, Monastario."

"Exactly. What if the justice hears you?" suddenly sounded the merry voice above them.

Monastario quickly looked in this direction… and froze seeing the familiar black clad silhouette, sitting on the banister at the top of the stairs leading to the guest rooms.

For a moment he felt slightly dizzy. So finally… He dreamt so madly about meeting this man once more to have an occasion to revenge… and here he was! Wearing the same costume, smiling in the same way… It was him and the _commandante_ finally had the second chance to deal with him.

Yet, near exhilaration, Monastario couldn't help feel a bit of anxiety. He hoped that when he saw the Fox once again, he will look more… casual than Monastario remembered him from their night's battle. That he will finally look just like a man in dark disguise. Less than… some black devil.

And he was there, just as elusive and mysterious as during their first meeting. _Damn, what makes him look so dangerous?_ thought desperately Monastario, staring at the black figure.

"I'd like to join the meeting, if you do not mind, Señores," asked the Fox, flashing the most polite smile. And he raised warningly the pistol he kept in the left hand.

Monastario shivered, trying to break from the spell, and looked around. The dons and the blacksmith stared at the bandit with fascination, seeing for the first time in the flesh the man they heard so much about. But Ramírez and López… they only exchanged glances, not seeming to be very surprised.

 _Oh, yes, they might be in league with him, who knows?_ thought Monastario and struggled to concentrate even if his soul yearned to jump on his feet, draw out the sword and run this bandit through…

"One should not come to the council with a weapon in his hand and the mask on his face," said the _alcalde_ to the Fox, but there was no real anger in his voice.

"Forgive me, Señor _Alcalde_ ," bowed Zorro, "but I need both these things to make you listen to me."

"The bandit will not take part in the decisions made in this pueblo," gnarled Monastario, not able to bear the self-confidence beaming from the masked man.

"We can listen to him if he has something important to say," opposed de la Vega.

"Him? The outlaw? Over my dead body!" hissed Monastario and bridled when Alejandro turned to him with a smile suggesting that he wouldn't mind arranging such occasion.

"You know, _Capitán_ … catching this man is a military matter, not ours," stated the _alcalde_ calmly. "You proclaimed him a renegade and traitor, yet you never actually gave the reason for it. We have never heard of any crime he committed, don't you agree, Señores?"

"The only thing I can tell about him is that he has a good sense of humor," replied merrily Alejandro, raising his hand to salute the masked man. The Fox grinned, but didn't return this gesture.

Using the moment of this conversation, Monastario silently signed Reyes to get out and call for the lancers. _Even if Zorro shoots Reyes, he will be out of bullet then… and I will be able to attack..._ the _commandante_ calculated obliviously.

The corporal soundlessly moved toward the door, yet before he managed to touch the handle, the dagger plunged into the wooden frame a foot from his head. The lancer jumped and sent the Fox the glance full of remorse.

"I am sorry, Corporal," the bandit bowed apologetically. "I have more of such knives with me… so please, just return to your place."

Reyes quickly trotted back to the sala, taking the position much further from the door than before.

"Speak then, Señor Zorro," in the silence sounded a bit shivering voice of the _alcalde_. "Speak what you want to say, but be careful with your knives, if you do not want the pueblo to turn against you."

"I am here to defend its citizens, not to hurt them," assured him seriously the Fox, and Monastario got surprised with the warmth in his voice.

The _alcalde_ nodded and Zorro turned to Ramírez and López, with his usual cocky grin again:

"Now, Señores, I have taken the liberty to search your quarters…" he smirked, seeing their furious glances, "and what surprised me was the custom declaration for the duty you paid for your splendid rifles. No, not its amount, though I admit it was terribly high… It was the date on it that drew my attention. If you paid it, you must have been in Europe in the moment when you claim that you gave the loan to this man. How can you explain it?"

"Are you going to let this bandit question us, _Capitán_?" snarled Ramírez clenching his fists.

During Zorro's speech Monastario cautiously reached to his belt, decided to get the pistol and risk the shot. Now he was almost touching the handle of the weapon… when suddenly he flinched as the dagger landed in the table just in front of him with a loud crash.

"Actually, _Capitán,_ I do not have that many of these knifes with me, so I will soon be forced to finish with warnings," stated the Fox with pensiveness. "Next time it might be the real stroke. Oh, but I believe that I have been careful enough?" he turned merrily to the _alcalde_.

"Even more than necessary," muttered Alejandro under his nose.

Then the bandit looked at Ramírez and López again and repeated softly, but flashing with smile that made the _commandante_ shiver.

"Explain."

"We never said that we gave that loan personally," started reluctantly López. "True, we were in Europe at that time… but we left our business to _Magistrado_ Covas, he has been investing in our name for a long time. It is not forbidden."

"Well, not so long!" chimed in Don Cornelio, seeming very satisfied that he finally can join the conversation. "It is only few months since he took his office. I remember his predecessor very well, he was much more likable. Not so pompous."

Alejandro and the _alcalde_ simultaneously almost jumped, exchanging glances.

"It is true!" gasped de la Vega triumphantly.

"Ha, you agree, Alejandro? Do you remember, how we…" started Don Cornelio, unaware of their agitation, but Alejandro quickly leant over the bill that the _alcalde_ still kept in his hand.

"Oh, how is it we didn't think about it?" muttered Alejandro and looked accusingly at the gunsmiths. "You claim to have given this loan a year ago, so the signature couldn't have been authorized by _Magistrado_ Covas… at least not as the _magistrado_ … and still there is such title on this bill."

Everyone froze for a moment, the blacksmith looking at Alejandro with gratitude, the dons at the two gunsmiths with anger, the gunsmiths at themselves in confusion and Monastario… at Zorro.

He didn't let the bandit out of his sight for a moment, so he noticed immediately that after Alejandro's words the man flinched with surprise.

"You didn't know about it?" asked the _commandante_ slowly. "I bet you heard our conversation from the beginning… and you seem to be so observant… So, you simply didn't know when Covas took his office. New in California, Fox, aren't you?"

Zorro passed the glance at him, unfortunately appearing to be perfectly oblivious to the _commandante's_ remark.

"And you didn't even read that bill. That does not surprise me. What does, is how you, Señores, could make such stupid mistake…" he looked again at the gunsmiths, piercing them with the cautious glance and suddenly nodded with the knowing smile. "Oh, but it was not a mistake! It is not only about the forge, it is also about him!" he exclaimed pointing at Monastario.

Whatever he meant, no one in the sala had an occasion to consider his words, as suddenly López jumped to his feet and in his left hand appeared some dark object. The blow of the shot cut the air and the black figure of the Fox curled. For a moment, Monastario thought that the bandit must have been hit, until he realized that if the bullet crushed the wooden wall of the staircase, it missed its human target. Almost immediately something silver glittered in the air and the next thing the _comamndante_ noticed was López fighting with the dagger nailing his jacket to the wall.

Monastario rushed into action, doing a few things simultaneously. He leaped up from the table, shouting to Reyes: "Get the lancers! Surround the building!" The corporal this time left the room undisturbed, as Zorro was already occupied fighting with Ramírez, who threw himself up the stairs with the naked blade in his hand. Monastario ran toward them, drawing out his weapon in one swift gesture. And still, despite this commotion, some part of his mind noted: _The Fox cannot work with these men. They would never manage to stage such shot and such dodge._

Zorro and Ramírez exchanged the thrusts on the stairs with dizzy speed. The _commandante_ would gladly join the fight, but Ramírez was blocking his way, there was not enough place for Monastario to stand near him or pass by him and attack the Fox from behind. For a moment, he just stood watching the fight, feverously trying to catch the suitable moment to use his blade. And then... suddenly after one of the powerful thrusts the steel jingled in a bit different manner and the Fox's blade snapped just under the hilt, the blade rolling aside with the last glitter. The unexpectedly defenseless bandit jumped back and his opponent followed him quickly with outstretched weapon.

 _That's it,_ thought Monastario with the sting of regret that he will not be the one to kill the masked intruder.

"Alejandro, don't!" he heard behind him the warning shout of the _alcalde_.

"Stay out of this, Señor!" called the Fox in the direction of de la Vega. Before Monastario managed to see what that old fool intended to do, Ramírez, using the moment of the bandit's distraction, lunged forward. The _commandante_ grimaced with regret expecting to see the Fox dead in the second – dead not by his hand – when the black figure dived under the blade and the next thing Monastario noticed was Ramírez's body rolling down the stairs just onto him.

The _commandante_ didn't manage to avoid the impact that knocked him down. As he was crumbling from the floor, he noticed only the black cape disappearing in one of his corner rooms.

Almost unconscious with fury that the masked bandit got away once more, Monastario rushed upon him. He burst into the room in a second… and for a moment froze, wondering why it is so empty.

And then he felt a sharp pain in his hand, forcing him to drop the blade. The cold edge of the knife pressed his throat.

"Let's talk for a moment. Who are these men?" hissed the Fox behind him, kicking the door to close.

Monastario tried to free himself, but the bandit was still twisting his hand and the only thing the _commandante_ achieved was the piercing pain in his hand. The blade of the knife pressed a little stronger. _Damn, how many of these daggers has he?_ cursed silently Monastario. And then he calmed. _Let him talk. It will give the lancers time to surround the building._

"Who are these men?" repeated Zorro and now the _commandante_ replied, trying to play on time:

"Gunsmiths from San Francisco."

"Very funny. I was asking who they are," now there was a clear menace in the bandit's voice. "They are not some petty swindlers, I must know the reason of their presence here."

"Why? I mean, why do you think I would tell you anything?" laughed Monastario, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. _Very well… I welcome your inquisitiveness Fox. Do not hurry with your questions._

"Can't you see that they wanted to frame you?…" bridled the man behind his back. "This so poorly falsified bill was to be the undeniable proof of your… corruption or incompetence, whatever… Can't you see that, no matter how it sounds, now I am helping you?"

"Go to hell with your help!" muttered Monastario. _And talk. Argue with me. Just a bit longer._

"Who – are – these – men?" repeated the Fox for the third time, accenting each word. "Speak, or…" he pressed the blade even stronger.

"You won't do it," replied Monastario trying to sound more confident than he felt.

 _He is not eager to take life,_ repeated himself the _commandante_. _He didn't kill me in fight. He won't simply slice my throat now._

_And if he will?_

"Are you really so sure about it?" very unsettling laughter sounded in Zorro's voice and suddenly Monastario, no matter how he wanted to prolong the conversation, couldn't find any suitable reply. The _commandante_ was almost ready to start the story of the mysterious company of friends, when he heard the shouts of the lancers:

"Surround the building! Here, from this side, under the windows!" Garcia's voice sounded in his ears like the most beautiful music.

"This conversation is not finished, _Capitán_ ," whispered the Fox behind his back and the blade of the knife disappeared from Monastario's throat. Strong push sent the _commandante_ to the other side of the room. When he tried to get on his feet, nursing the aching arm, he saw the bandit exiting the balcony… and then quickly retreating to the room, as the musket salve sounded in the air.

Monastario smirked. Now he had him. Previously this scoundrel managed to catch him by surprise… but that was all. Now his luck was over. The _commandante_ tried to raise his blade, though his hand was still pulsing with pain.

The Fox in the meantime quickly looked around the room, then reached for the big candlestick staying on the table, wrapped his cape around it… slowly slid it out of the window… and then energetically threw outside.

The muskets sounded with a furious salve.

"Well, these should be all of them, don't you think, _Capitán_?" the bandit smirked to Monastario. "Now it will take some time to reload."

Having said that, he jumped out into the darkness behind the window.

Monastario followed him furiously with the blade in his hand.

Zorro was wrong. These were not all the muskets. A few bullets cut the air, some of them crushing the wall much too near to Monastario's head. He quickly hid in the room again, catching only the glimpse of the dark silhouette, deftly slipping down the wall to the big dark shadow waiting under it… The horse's hoofs hit the ground and the rider and its mount melted with the darkness of the night.

"Idiots! Follow him!" yelled Monastario to the lancers, jumping to the balcony again.

But, of course, his soldiers surrounded the building on their feet, leaving the horses in the stables.

"To the horses! Hurry!" called Garcia and the lancers rushed toward the _cuartel_.

However, Monastario knew they were running so quickly only to get out of his sight. They had no chances of catching up with the black clad bandit now.

* * *

Monastario slowly crossed the room, with the gloomy sigh realizing how very badly this evening had gone. He met the black bandit for the second time… only to be humiliated by him once again. Humiliated in the most unbearable manner, this time they didn't even cross blades…

And Monastario's soldiers! This time they were around, armed and warned to catch the bandit… and still this damn Fox got away without the slightest effort, not losing his impudent smirk!

He exited to the staircase and noticed the men gathered below. Corporal Reyes stood with a few lancers in the door and talked with the blacksmith, not sure what to do next. One of the soldiers took care of Ramírez, who slowly regained his consciousness after the fall from the stairs. As for López, Alejandro was just helping him to get out the dagger pinning his clothes to the wall, but… the gunsmiths' weapons were taken from them, lying in the far corner behind the dons.

 _Oh, true, their cheat came to light… and mostly thanks to this masker as well…_ the _commandante_ almost moaned, feeling very tired.

Some shining object on the floor drew his attention and Monastario gathered the remains of Zorro's rapier. He examined them carefully, slowly descending to the sala. Actually, it was not the blade that was broken, only the hand guard, split lengthwise into few parts. Monastario leant closer, realizing that someone must have altered the weapon, fixing the blade in the other hilt than it originally was. Probably that was why it broke so unhappily after the stroke given from the specific angle... The hilt that Zorro used was very simple, had no peculiar markings, no decors, as the weapon that could be bought at any market in the neighborhood. But the blade… Monastario recognized it immediately.

 _Toledo steel,_ he thought with a smile. _I see we share the taste to weapon, Fox… I wonder how eye-catching it originally was, if you decided to tamper with it._

Fascinated with the weapon, for a moment the _commandante_ forgot all his worries. After descending to the sala, he looked a bit distracted around and beamed seeing the most needed person in this situation.

"Can you fix it?" he asked the blacksmith, for the first time during this evening turning to the man directly.

The craftsman looked at him surprised, but obediently examined the weapon.

"The blade is not cracked, so yes… I will only have to embed it in the new hilt."

"Good. So do it," nodded Monastario.

"Splendid steel…" muttered de la Vega, throwing curious glance on the blade.

"No matter the steel!" interrupted them the _alcalde_. "What about these cheaters?" he pointed at the gunsmiths.

Monastario hesitated for a moment. If he still tried to support their claims, the _alcalde_ and these rebellious fools will raise hellish rumpus… insist on calling Covas as the witness… he will deny… the whole case will spread through Monterey, it may reaching governor's ears… This affair wasn't worth so much fuss.

Besides, who knows, maybe there was a grain of truth in Zorro's words? Maybe these men really made the mistake on the bill on purpose, so that they could later blackmail him? If so...

Monastario turned to López and stated coldly.

"Senores, you have one hour to pack your belongings. Then you will leave the pueblo."

López bridled and neared toward Monastario, ignoring the watchful glances of lancers that gathered around them. For the first time this day his eyes shined with anger and the _commandante_ though that Senor López, even if so quiet and composed, was much a more dangerous man than his companion.

"You are making the mistake, _Capitán_ ," he stated quietly. Then for a moment he struggled to regain control and finished, calmer, but still with menace in his voice: "It is a mistake, however, we understand the circumstances. You will have one more chance… yet remember, it will be the last one."

Monastario kept his glance for a moment and, not bothering to reply, turned to Reyes.

"Corporal, wait here till they are ready… and then escort them out of the pueblo," he ordered obliviously and left.

* * *

When the _commandante_ returned to his quarters, he felt deadly tired, yet still too furious and bitter to go to sleep. He paced through his office, not sure whether he should start writing the reports from today's events, send the lancers to the whole night maneuvers or maybe arrest someone… he sincerely longed for making someone else as miserable as he felt now.

Right now, he even barely had strength to plan the next move against the Fox.

"I hate him," Monastario stated gloomily to himself.

 _New in California…_ crossed through his mind and he stepped to the cabinet, to take the register of the men who passed by Los Angeles in the last few weeks.

And then his eyes fell on the small leather bundle that lay forgotten on the shelf since his conversation with the gunsmiths… whoever they really were. Forgetting the register he slowly took the bundle and opened it, checking what was inside.

The feather.

The eagle's feather, with some unusual markings cut in it.

Monastario saw the natives, who used to decorate themselves with such feathers, that were told to commemorate the achievements of the warrior wearing them – but he never saw the markings cut in such elaborate way as on the one he kept in his hand.

Was it only a toy, intended to lure the naïve victims… or was it really the sign, bearing some unknown message?

What if he made a mistake? It wasn't difficult to throw two men out of pueblo… but about this mysterious association? For a moment, he couldn't help the wave of anxiety take over him, as he unwillingly turned the feather in his fingers.

Then, however, he shook his head with a smirk. One should ally with the men able to help him, not needing the help themselves. If this… company consisted of such members as these two who paid him the visit today…

 _What for do I need more people who cannot cope with one bandit?_ snorted Monastario with irony. _I have two dozens of such in the cuartel!_

So, the _commandante_ neared the feather to the flame of the candle until it began to burn and then threw it into the empty fireplace, where it slowly glowed, turning into dust and casting ruby reflections on Monastario's quarters.


	5. The wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the commandante is overdetermined. However, the most important slips out of his fingers.  
> The licenciado is observant.

"José Antonio Figueroa," read Monastario aloud, turning the next page of the heavy volume lying on the tavern's table. "No, I remember him. He has the paunch like the barrel."

"But _Capitán_ , just because someone is a little wider it doesn't mean he cannot be a good fighter," protested Sergeant Garcia in a bit aggrieved voice.

"You think so, Sergeant?" Monastario looked at him maliciously. "So let's make a bet. You will go upstairs to the corner room and try to climb down in the same way as Zorro did. If you manage to do it without breaking the balcony, the banister or yourself, I will believe that Figueroa may be the Fox."

"Please, Señor _Commandante_!" moaned the inn-keeper. "I have enough problems with repairs after your fight with the real Zorro!"

Garcia only muttered something under his nose, definitely not eager to climb either up the stairs nor down the wall, so Monastario returned to the register of the travelers who arrived to Los Angeles during last few weeks.

"Antonio Ramos. I cannot recall him."

"I can," nodded the inn-keeper. "He comes to the tavern every day."

"And what does he do? Behaves suspiciously? Asks questions?" eagerly caught Monastario, but the sergeant, who obviously also knew Señor Ramos, only shook his head.

"No. He is escaping," he stated enigmatically, but then raised his head with sudden interest. " _Capitán_ , that might be a trait! The man with such spouse as Lupita has every reason to hide himself behind the mask!"

"But he is sixty years old!" gnarled Monastario, having read the records concerning Ramos more precisely.

"Señor _Commandante_ , I really should return to my work…" complained the inn-keeper. "The first guests will appear soon. It is market day tomorrow; some salesmen should arrive already today."

"They can wait," Monastario cut him off. No one knew so well the citizens of Los Angeles as the inn-keeper. That was why the _commandante_ this morning came to the tavern with his register, to have the inn-keeper and the tavern's servants at hand, when he didn't recall the details of some newcomer.

And he wanted to hear as much details about every name in records. One of them probably was the real name of the Fox.

"Nicolás Moya," the sergeant read the next line. "I don't know him."

"He lives in a small adobe house behind the creek," stated the inn-keeper. "But I do not know him well either."

"Very well. Sergeant, add him to the list of the men to be checked. Today you will visit them and see, whether one of them could be the bandit," ordered Monastario.

"But how can I check it, if I do not know what this bandit looks like?" surprised the sergeant. "I saw no more than a shadow that night!"

" _Baboso_! He is tall and slim, and…" Monastario started and stopped, realizing that he has not much more to say. Besides, the sergeant certainly had his own definition of the slim man. "Oh, just arrest them all and bring them to the _cuartel_ , so that I could see them," the _commandante_ finished waving his hand.

"All of them?" Garcia measured the list with widely open eyes. "I will never manage to arrest so many people till sundown!"

"Arrest? What new plot have you concocted, Monastario, to torment the people of this pueblo?" the voice of Alejandro de la Vega sounded from the tavern's door. The _commandante_ didn't even look in his direction, only called back mockingly:

"I don't remember that I should report to you, Señor de la Vega!"

"Buenos dias, _Capitán_ , Sergeant," Alejandro's son strolled after his father, but he approached Monastario's table with merry smile. "Neat handwriting," he commented casting a glance on the register.

"I have guests, so…" the inn-keeper started to rise, but Monastario only waved for him to remain on his place.

"I will help myself, if you allow," said serenely the young man, reaching for the bottle and mugs. The first one he handed to his father, who with a scowled face sat by the other table. Then, however, he returned to the _commandante_ and his companions. Monastario shook his head decliningly, but the sergeant beamed with gratitude at the mug that appeared in front of him.

Alejandro's son placed himself with the last mug under the wall near Monastario's table, which cost him reproachful glance of his father and irritated of the _commandante_.

"Joaquin Herrera. Herrera? But he is a lancer!" exclaimed irritated Monastario at the next name, forgetting the dandy hanging over him. "What idiot registered the lancer here?"

"I did…" replied shyly Garcia. "You said yourself, _Capitán_ , that we should keep records of everyone…"

"Lancers are to be noted in the military register! This is the one for civilians!" foamed Monastario.

"We have two?..." gasped the sergeant startled by the revelation.

"Any problem?" chimed in de la Vega, leaning over Monastario's shoulder to pour the sergeant more wine.

"No, Don Diego, we are only trying to find the Fox," sighed Garcia.

"In the tavern? Well, that is the new approach," commented obliviously the young man, but his father, hearing the sergeant's words, stood up and also neared to them.

"Why do you think that Zorro could be one of these men?" he asked pointing at the register.

"Worried about your masked friend, Señor?" smirked Monastario. "Well, you should be."

"No bandit is our friend, _Capitán_ ," outraged the young man, as if he just heard the insult to his family's honour. Then, however, he added lightly again: "Though I admit that this one seems quite peculiar. So much fuss around one man, and I didn't even hear that he stole something.'

"He is not a thief, Diego! I told you what he did," Alejandro snorted angrily.

"Yes, but, honestly, I did not entirely understand what was his role in all this… commotion that took place here… apart from the fact that it involved destroying the furniture," the young man rubbed with discontent the hole in the table top, left by Zorro's knife that landed in front of Monastario. Evidently displeased with the unsightly scar marring the wooden surface, the young man wrinkled his nose and, after the moment of consideration, put on it Monastario's ink pot.

"Señor de la Vega," Monastario moved the ink pot to its previous position, irritated by the unpleasant shiver that ran over him as he reminded himself of the moment when the dagger landed just in front of him, "I am trying to work here."

"Yes, Señores, por favor, can we continue?" pleaded the inn-keeper, eager to get back to his work. "The next one is José Vanegas."

Damn, this hole was really quite noticeable. So deep. The _commandante_ didn't pay attention to it earlier, but now his sight ran over and over into its direction. It was such a… humiliating reminder of the moment his life depended only on the bandit's whim.

Monastario shivered once again and quickly moved the ink pot back over the hole.

"Vanegas? No, he is a native. The Fox is a Spaniard," he shook his head, trying to concentrate.

"How do you know, _Capitán_ , if he wears the mask?" asked Garcia and Alejandro's son supported him, nodding and turning questioning glance at Monastario.

"By his accent."

"Really? And what accent does he have?" the sergeant inquired curiously.

"None, _baboso_! That is why I am telling he is a Spaniard!"

"All right, but it doesn't mean that he is registered in your record. Why are you checking these names?" now Alejandro chimed in repeating his question.

Monastario sighed, almost ready to throw both son and father out of the tavern. Yet, he forced himself to reply:

"You were here, so you know why I believe he arrived recently. Besides, I have reasons to suspect he has some acquaintances in Los Angeles from whom he tries to hide his crimes."

"Crimes!" bridled Alejandro, yet his son exclaimed with amazement:

"That's a fascinating deduction, _Capitán_! How did you come to such conclusion?"

Monastario smirked with satisfaction, but the inn-keeper moaned impatiently and pulled the register into his direction.

"So, then it is Juan Bautista Rubio, who is eighty-two years old, and Señor de la Vega is the last one, so I understand we are finished. I was glad to help, Señor _Commandante_ ," he stated quickly and stood up, disappearing behind the counter.

"Why there is not record of these strange gunsmiths here? I thought everyone should be noted," curious voice of the young de la Vega buzzed over Monastario's ear.

The _commandante_ got confused a little. He put no record of his mysterious guests in official archives, because… well, just in case.

"They arrived and left in the same day, we had not time to get information from them," he replied angry at himself that his answer sounded like an excuse and quickly closed the register.

Alejandro's son, however, still looked at the book with vivid interest.

"Does each presidio in California have too keep such records?"

"Yes, of course," answered Monastario cautiously. Was this boy accusing him of undue surveillance?

"That's good for you, _Capitán_. You will have no problems with getting the lists of newcomers from other districts," the young man stated lightly and seeing surprised Monastario's glance, explained a little confused: "Well, even if your bandit arrived to California recently and has some acquaintances in Los Angeles, he still may live somewhere in the neighbourhood, not under your jurisdiction."

Monastario realized with unpleasant surprise that it was possible. Even if someone in Los Angeles knew the alter persona of the Fox, the real, unmasked one, the bandit himself still could live in another district. That meant that Monastario's register might not be enough to identify him…

"I am sure that each _commandante_ in California has such solid records as you, _Capitán_ ," stated consolingly de la Vega and Monastario's thoughts quickly ran to the other officers in Southern California… and the way they used to deal with such bothersome nuisance as reports and registers.

"Oh, _Dios_ , that's useless!" he moaned, for a moment hiding his face in his hands.

In this moment the door crackled, and Monastario raised his head to see one of the lancers entering the sala with some long object wrapped in dark cloth in his hand.

" _Capitán_ , the blacksmith came to your office to bring you this," he reported, handing him the item.

Monastario smiled, taking the parcel. He knew what was inside.

"Already done…" he muttered with satisfaction, slowly unwrapping the cloth.

"Father, I think we can return to the hacienda," young de la Vega put away his mug and reached for his father's arm, heading for the door. Alejandro, however, moved him aside and leaned over Monastario, for a moment curiosity taking place of irritation on his face.

For one small second both the _commandante_ and his enemy together admired the Fox's blade.

The blacksmith must have been working at it with great devotion. Not only had he embedded the blade in the new hilt, but also precisely polished and cleaned the steel, so that it shined now like pure silver. He even found the suitable black sheath. _Good work. No wonder, he must be grateful that I helped him to keep his forge,_ stated Monastario with satisfaction, seeing how much effort the craftsman put into his work.

"Really, exquisite steel, don't you think, Diego?" muttered Alejandro, trying to see it more precisely.

"As the matter of fact, not especially. Steel is steel. Father, why don't we…"

"Oh, come on, Diego. It is exceptional, though I would definitely chose another hand guard for such splendid blade. By the way, do you…"

"Father, let's just return to the hacienda. It has been a busy morning, it would be nice to rest a bit before… before the siesta…" the young man's voice sounded a bit impatient and Monastario couldn't hide the grin.

 _Rest before the siesta!_ That was the precise definition of the boy's life. It was delicious to see how confused anger reappeared on the face of the older de la Vega. _I do like this young one. He costs Alejandro much more worries than I would ever be able to cause._

Alejandro must have felt some of Monastario's satisfaction, as he finally headed for the doors, though still grumbling:

"Busy? We haven't spent at the pueblo more than two hours!"

"As you say, Father, but for me this morning has been exhausting enough," muttered the young man opening the door and farewelling the other men with a bow.

When they left, Monastario sighed with relief enjoying the silence and reached once again for the register. In all this commotion he almost forgot the last thing he wanted to check.

He quickly riffled the volume till the last page and found the note referring to Alejandro's son.

"Diego. Diego," he repeated trying to memorize it. They met so often recently that not remembering the boy's name was slowly getting awkward.

Then he raised his head with discontent, when the silence was interrupted by the quiet tune. It was Sergeant Garcia, who in the meantime sat in the corner with the tavern's guitar and started to play some vivid melody, humming under his nose. Well, that one was always ready to enjoy himself!

"What's that strumming, Sergeant? Have you forgotten you are on duty?" the _commandante_ asked him sharply.

"Oh, no, _mí Capitán_ , it is just the new song people at the pueblo sing. Very pretty one. It has nice words that go like…" Garcia corrected the hold on the guitar and took deep breath, preparing to sing, when suddenly he choked as if the air was blocked in his lungs. A bit reddened, he muttered quietly: "Eeeh, no matter, _Capitán_. Just the song."

Monastario didn't listen to his mumbling, only handed him the list of the men to be checked.

"You complained that you won't manage to get these men till sundown. The sooner you start, the more chances you have to return before supper."

The sergeant's face went long.

"Is that really necessary, _Capitán_? I mean that… Don Diego was right, this bandit didn't steal anything… He did nothing but saving… I meant intruding the council… and it… well, it seemed as if he was right… Of course he wasn't, but it seemed so…" now the sergeant was all red and befuddled, his voice shaking and stuttering, but he continued bravely, even if he didn't dare to raise his eyes from the floor: "Maybe he only tried to help? _Capitán_ , some say… that he only cares for simple people… that is at least what the others say."

Monastario grinded his teeth and stood up, ready to send the sergeant either to cleaning the stables, or straight to the cell.

Then he sat down.

_He cares for simple people…_

That was true. The Fox did care for people. Torres, blacksmith… even the lancers that stood in his way, Sepulveda and Reyes, he didn't harm them…

 _El noble bandido…_ he thought with a smirk. _Laudable. Laudable weakness._

Monastario laughed, moving aside the register. Why did he choose the hard path when the easy one was in his reach? He wasted the whole morning. Why chase the bandit? Let him come to the _commandante_ himself.

"Sergeant, keep that list for later," he said to Garcia so calmly, that the lancer who was expecting his outburst with closed eyes now opened them widely: "Today you will arrest only one person..." He looked around searching for inspiration and his eyes fell on the rapier. "The blacksmith."

"Paquito? But… Is there something wrong with that weapon?" stuttered the sergeant pointing at the blade. Monastario didn't bother to reply only turned to the tavern's owner:

"Inn-keeper! You will announce that I have arrested the blacksmith under the charges of collusion with the bandit Zorro. And that I will hang him tomorrow, if the Fox won't give himself in before dawn."

* * *

Before leaving his office, Pina for a moment wondered whether he shouldn't reconsider once more the decision he considered the whole night. Then he stated almost obliviously, that he is too tired for it. Sometimes, things surpass you and the wise man knows when to give up, before they will destroy him.

He crossed through the plaza, noticing that the market that was to take place on the next day brought to Los Angeles much more visitors than usual. Well, no wonder, given the circumstances.

People talked. Commented, quarreled, prated. The whole pueblo was buzzing with gossips on one and sole subject: _el Zorro_.

When the _commandante_ out of the sudden started to chase feverously the black clad man no one except for him saw, it had been exciting enough. People discussed it long and thorough, trying to figure out the motives and identity of the masked intruder.

Their opinions were shared. Some believed that the _commandante's_ enemy is the revenger sent by the Holy Virgin, patron of the city, to ease the life of the anguished citizens. However, they have problems with explaining why the Heaven's envoy would appear in black attire. People with more practical approach stated that the _commandante_ simply went mad and now, for all his sins, was haunted by the figment of his guilty conscience.

Finally, considerable number suspected that the black rider was not the illusion born in Monastario's twisted mind, but the regular, real ghost. Some even claimed to know the precise history of the dark phantom being one of the _commandante's_ victims, though in details the story had as many versions as the people who told it. Quite often, the stories included the woman. Who she was and what role she played in the feud between the officer and his mysterious prosecutor was not sure, but one thing was certain: she was of an exceptional beauty.

And then, when the most exciting tales began to flourish, _el Zorro_ pleased to show his black figure to the other citizens of the pueblo, standing up for the blacksmith, putting up the delicious brawl at the tavern and disappearing in the night just from under the nose of the lancers.

It changed the situation.

People in Los Angeles had a vast knowledge of the rules reigning in the afterlife and were aware of the fact that the ghosts dispose of more sophisticated ways to get their vengeance than by use of very real daggers and sword. Of course, some still claimed that such villain as Monastario deserved a special ghost to haunt him, a ghost with the ability to handle sharp material objects, yet others were convinced that the matter must be more complicated than that.

" _El hombre lobo_ ," Pina heard the voice of the vaquero staying with his friends under the well in the middle of the plaza and stopped to listen to the conversation. The man continued in the tone of an expert: "I know what I am talking about. My uncle heard that in the caves near San Juan de Capistrano used to live the whole family of werewolves. That is why he wears the mask, to hide the fur on his face."

" _Lupino_ would use claws, not daggers," objected one of his companions, apparently feeling an expert in this field as well. The first one energetically defended his opinion:

"Have you seen that window he got out through? No man could jump from such height."

"No man. But the vampire could. The vampires can fly."

"Yes, but only as bats," chimed in another listener and suddenly the whole group froze.

"True... the fat sergeant saw something like the black bat wings falling down the window," whispered one in awe. For a moment they considered the revelation in frightened silence, until they noticed Reyes mooning around the plaza and quickly moved in his direction.

"Corporal! Corporal, you saw _el Zorro_ in the tavern. What did he look like from near? Did you notice…"

"…if he has fangs?" squealed someone and the group surrounded the lancer looking at him pleadingly.

Corporal Reyes for a moment stood quiet, adapting himself to the role of the pueblo's celebrity. Then he replied cautiously:

"I saw him precisely. He was horrifying. Each time I think about him my throat goes dry from terror."

Vaqueros exchanged glances and escorted Reyes as the most precious guest toward the tavern.

Pina smiled. Usually the prattle of vaqueros irritated him, but this time he found it amusing. This was indeed a nice pueblo. Pity that… no, he took his decision.

The tavern seemed to be overcrowded and the innkeeper was showing around the small group of peons, pointing them the wall the Fox climbed down to the ground. Obviously, hosting Zorro's tussle was going to pay him off quite well.

Some men sitting in the shadow of the store with the guitars hummed something quietly, silencing immediately when they saw Pina passing by them.

Oh, yes. There were also the people who thought that _el Zorro_ is simply the man, brave and determined to defend these who cannot defend themselves. They already started to sing ballads about him.

Neither of this interested the _licenciado_ anymore.

What prevailed his decision was not the Fox, but the visit of the two strange gunsmiths. Monastario handled it in the worst possible manner. He should either play spotless officer or be consequent in his support. Instead, he showed them his weaknesses and then hostilised them. That was very reckless.

Pina had no influence on his decision, so he didn't intend to pay for it.

He was tired, tired with the Fox and with the mysterious plot around Monastario, tired with the masked hero and fraudulent strangers. So, he didn't listen to gossip and songs anymore, only headed straight to the _cuartel_.

When the guard let him to the _commandante's_ office, Monastario welcomed him rather reluctantly.

" _Licenciado_? What do you want? I am busy," he said coldly, though he was apparently only playing with some rapier.

 _I am tired with you as well,_ concluded bitterly Pina and replied shortly:

"I came to say good bye. I am returning to Mexico."

* * *

Monastario put away the blade he was keeping, stood up and stared at the _licenciado_ with disbelief on his face:

"What did you say?"

"I am leaving Los Angeles," repeated Pina, enjoying the impression his words made on the _commandante_. Really, the man looked like the boy whose toy has just been spoiled!

"And what stupidity do you mean by that?"

"None. You accused me of collaborating with bandits and plotting against you. I understand that you were angry, but many days passed and you still treat me like an enemy. I came here to work for you. If you don't want my services any more, I have here no business of my own. So, I am leaving. And I want you to know that you treated me unjustly. I always advised you only according to my best judgment."

Maybe that was not the entire truth… but Pina couldn't refuse himself the satisfaction of expressing his grudge against his former superior. Long enough he put up humbly with Monastario's humours, now he could at least say him a few bitter words. When he finished speaking, he looked at the _commandante_ in defiance, expecting the outburst. _Now you can yell as much as you want. I do not care anymore._

To his astonishment, Monastario didn't start to shout, though he bridled a little, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh, just don't play offended. It doesn't work on me," he stated harshly.

And then his sight returned to the rapier lying on the table. He unsheathed it a bit and ran his fingers along the blade.

"I'm not… playing anything!" snorted Pina, forgetting that he intended to remain cool and composed. "I just do not want to be part of what is happening here anymore."

"You knew very well what kind of things we were going to deal with when you agreed to work with me," observed Monastario. "Now, you have chosen the worst possible moment for sulking. I don't have time for it today."

Even if the _licenciado's_ words surprised the _commandante_ , now it seemed that his thoughts floated in some other direction. Pina felt strangely embittered. Here he came, ready to lead his first utterly open conversation with his superior, finally on equal terms… and he didn't even manage to keep Monastario's attention for more than a few seconds.

"No, no, not such things," Pina shook his head, feeling the unusual urge to argue. "I agreed to help you legalize your actions against local opponents… not to fight some masked demons or plot against mysterious conspirators."

"He is no demon! He is just the man and I will get him," Monastario's eyes gleamed sinisterly as he clenched his fists.

_It is useless. He hardly listens to what I am saying._

"Very well, do it. It is not my business anymore. Good bye," concluded Pina and turned to the door.

"I really do not have time for this, _Licenciado_ ," sighed Monastario and some very unpleasant note sounded in his voice, as he said: "How far do you think you will be able to get away on your own?"

Pina froze, slowly moving his sight to the _commandante_ , who continued:

"If there are really some people plotting against me, you would be too easy a target for them. Or for the Fox. You know too much about me. They would certainly try to get you and use against me. I cannot risk it."

"Is that a threat?" asked quietly Pina. He realized that the conversation might take such direction, yet he hoped that Monastario won't go so far. After all, they worked closely together for a considerable time…

"I do not have to threaten you, _Licenciado_ ," replied obliviously the _commandante_. "You certainly realize that I have more than enough reasons to arrest you and sent to Monterey with charges of bribery, perjury, perhaps even treason."

"Whatever I did, I did it on your strict orders."

"Can you prove it?"

For a moment their sights met and Monastario smiled.

 _So much for talking on equal terms,_ Pina thought bitterly. _No. I won't play his game anymore. Even he won't simply… get rid of me. Neither will he send me to the governor. I do know too much about him. It is merely a bluff. I just have to be decisive._

Monastario must have seen the steeled resolve on Pina's face as he snorted impatiently:

"Enough of this, _Licenciado_! I will get rid of this black masker and then we will continue dealing with the _haciendados_. As for these gunsmiths and their friends, if that calms you, I will write a report to the governor, warning about a possible plot. But not now. Zorro comes first. And I won't let anything or anyone to stay in my way when I am dealing with him. That includes you, Tomás, so keep your grudges for another occasion or I may do something you will not like."

"And how are you going to deal with him? You had not much luck so far," Pina couldn't resist snorting with irony, the wan retort for Monastario's threats.

"I found the new way," replied the _commandante_ with undisturbed self-confidence.

"What way?" Pina felt slightly curious, though he repeated himself dozen times it is not his business anymore.

" _El Zorro_ seems to have tender heart toward ragtags. So, I gave the order to arrest someone on the charges of aiding this bandit, announcing his execution unless the Fox gives himself in. That should force him to leave his hiding," Monastario grinned widely and his smile made Pina feel strangely unsure. The _commandante_ was all in his new plot now, proudly relating it to the _licenciado_ , as if he forgot how he threatened him a moment before. He was always moody, but never displayed such extreme changes of humour. Not knowing how to react, Pina asked only:

"Whom did you arrest?"

"This blacksmith."

"You really think that he was in collusion…"

"It doesn't matter. The Fox will certainly appear to help him. Well, I do not think he will simply give himself in, he will try to trick me somehow… but he will have to show himself, and this time it will happen on my conditions." Monastario once again took the rapier from the black sheath and grasped the hilt.

Pina moved a bit aside.

"And if the bandit doesn't show up?"

"He will," the blade glittered and cut the air with the quiet whistle.

"But if he won't? What will you do with your prisoner?" Pina himself couldn't tell why he was so interested in the answer for this question, yet he felt that it was important. Important for him.

"Tomorrow's market day, many people would witness the execution. It would give a good example, both for the Fox and for the others who would hope for his help," replied Monastario airily.

In this moment Pina realized that behind the lightness of the _commandante's_ voice hid the pure obsession.

 _To get this bandit he is ready to cross all limits…_ he thought frowning. _He is unpredictable now. Oh, yes, he would kill the blacksmith. And me too, if he only finds it suitable, he will kill me without hesitation._

Pina came here ready for quarrel with the _commandante_ , prepared to reason or bear threats and accusations. Right now he dreamt only that Monastario would forget his existence. There was no way he could reason with him.

As if reading his thoughts, Monastario turned to him, carefully sheathing the weapon.

"As for your plans of leaving… let's just forget about this conversation. It will be better for you that way."

His voice sounded almost friendly, but Pina wasn't misled even for a second. However, there was nothing he could do but nod and exit the office.

 _Oh, I hope that he will finally get his Fox, maybe then he will regain his reason and things will be normal again!_ The _licenciado_ thought, watching how gloomy the sergeant closes the cell door behind the prisoner. Some people gathered on the plaza in front of the _cuartel_ , the news about the arrest and the challenge the _commandante_ threw to _el Zorro_ spreading faster than wind.

"He will come. Whoever he is, from this world or another, he wouldn't fail an innocent man," said someone loudly.

* * *

The rest of the day Monastario spent in his office, trying to foresee all the scenarios of incoming confrontation with the Fox. Lancers told him that the _alcalde_ twice wanted to speak with him, first alone, then in the company of some members of the council, but the _commandante_ refused to let them into the _cuartel_. A bit later, Alejandro de la Vega came too and made quite a row under the gate, but Monastario barely listened to the reports on it. There will be time to deal with the _haciendado_ later, now only Zorro counted. Finally Sergeant Garcia, pale and stuttering, approached him with some desperate lies that were to prove that the blacksmith couldn't contact Zorro by any means and out of thousand reasons that the sergeant personally happened to witness. Monastario didn't even bother to punish the lancer, only sent him to keep all the soldiers on guard.

Finally the dusk fell over the pueblo, soon followed by darkness.

Monastario deployed the troopers around the _cuartel_ , some of them in open positions, some in hiding, himself circling impatiently between the yard and his office.

What trick will the Fox try to play this time? Whatever it might be, Monastario felt he was prepared for it. Yes, this time the game was played on his terms. They didn't have to chase the bandit, only guard one man, already closed behind bars. No matter how cunning _el Zorro_ is, he won't defeat all the lancers. The _commandante_ almost felt the taste of victory, imagining the execution of the bandit he will lead tomorrow. Oh, it will be the market day to remember! He will make it as public as possible, unmasking the man in front of the whole pueblo and all visitors! Or rather, it would be wiser to see his face earlier. If Monastario or any of the lancers would know the real identity of the bandit, they could still this night arrest his family and execute them together… The perspective of crushing his enemy made the _commandante_ thrill with delight.

His dreams were interrupted by the sound of the clock at the church tower ringing midnight. Monastario and his lancers doubled their caution, as if feeling that it is the right time for the mysterious rider to appear – but nothing happened.

They remained tensed and watchful, staring at darkness, listening to each sound that could indicate the arrival of the masked bandit – but the first thing they heard was again the church clock, ringing the next hour.

For the first time Monastario felt the wave anxiety. What if his calculations were wrong and the Fox won't come? What if he estimated his chances coming to the same conclusion as the _commandante_ – that there are none – and decided to sacrifice the life of the prisoner? Monastario almost moaned, feeling as the victory that seemed to be so near slips through his fingers.

No. He will come. 'If you will try to harm the innocent people I will be in shadows waiting for you,' said the bandit during their first encounter. _Don't fail me, Fox,_ silently prayed Monastario.

Next two hours passed. The watchfulness of the soldiers, tired with so many hours of waiting in tension, weakened. They shifted searching for more comfortable position, some of them started to whisper quiet talks, some wavered falling into short naps. Monastario circled between them, calling them to attention, almost unconscious with fury and disappointment. The dawn was soon to come… and the Fox didn't appear.

The _commandante_ passed the last glance through the yard, the gate, the roofs of the buildings… Nothing but darkness. Everything was in vain. Well, if the bandit didn't dare to show up, at least his protégée will pay for it.

"Keep watching. And as soon as it dawns, start preparing the gallows," he ordered sharply returning to his office.

In the moment he touched the handle, he heard a swift – and familiar – hiss of steel cutting the air and a dagger landed in the door just in front of him.

Monastario turned like a streak, immediately spotting the familiar dark silhouette on the stables' roof.

"Zorro!" he exclaimed with relief.

"Could you tell your men not to shoot, _Capitán_?" called the bandit. "No matter how quickly they take an aim, my knife will be first."

"Oh, but we not have to shoot at you," merrily replied Monastario, waving for the lancers to lower their muskets. "If you want to save this man in the cell, you have to come to us. Otherwise… well, you may try to kill me and escape, but it will only mean his death."

The blacksmith who till this moment was sitting in his cell in quiet desperation, suddenly stood up, grabbing the bars and called:

"Señor Zorro! Do what…"

"Quiet!" shouted the bandit, adding gentler: "Just be patient, my friend. And no word."

"Enough of this!" ordered Monastario. "Toss aside your weapon and get down. I will release the blacksmith once you are in the cell."

But the Fox looked at him, smiled so widely that even in the darkness Monastario saw the flash of his teeth and asked with a note of challenge ringing in his voice:

"Are you a sporting man, _Capitán_?"

Monastario stiffened, confused by the lack of slightest sign of worry by the bandit and the Fox spoke further:

"If so, I can propose you a wager. A duel. If you win, you have me. If I best you – you let the blacksmith free."

A duel. Oh, yes, Monastario longed for another chance to fight with the Fox. The failure he suffered during their first encounter still lay with the heavy shadow on the _commandante's_ pride. Yet, he had to be careful. He had the upper hand now, Zorro was certainly trying to outmaneuver him somehow…

"So, do you accept the challenge, _Capitán_?" continued the Fox, now his voice clearly mocking. "Or do you prefer to hide behind the muskets of your lancers? Well, it is even reasonable," he admitted with a serious nod, "after all we met once and you were no match for me. I understand that you are afraid to cross blades with me once again."

"Get – down!" panted Monastario, his vision blurred white with fury. "I take your wager. Just get down so that I could run you through!"

The Fox slipped down on the roof of the small shed that was adjacent to the stables.

"If I win the blacksmith goes free and you won't persecute him further?" he made sure. "Your word of honor?"

Despite all the emotions, Monastario struggled to think clearly. No matter how… offending the same idea that he could lose was, it had to be considered. He wasn't afraid of the bandit, yet couldn't bear the thought that the impudent man would go free. But wait… who said that…

The _commandante_ smiled deviously and nodded.

"Yes, he goes free. I just want you to face me. Lancers! Over here!" he called.

The soldiers obeyed, leaving their positions and hidings, crowding around the _commandante_. They all stared at the Fox, both with awe and curiosity and exchanged excited whispers.

"Move aside and make us place," ordered Monastario.

The lancers quickly arranged themselves in the circle, carefully choosing their position so that they could precisely see the fight and still do not get too close to the man in the mask. Even Monastario didn't blame them for their anxiety. They were used to fighting men, not shadows.

And the Fox in his black attire looked like a troubling shadow, darker that the night that surrounded him.

When he slipped down to the yard, the soldiers nearest to him quickly stepped aside, making him more place than necessary to approach the _commandante_.

Monastario wasn't afraid neither of men, nor of shadows. He stared at the Fox almost greedily, overtaken with the euphoria that he finally managed to corner his elusive enemy.

"It is your end, _bandido,"_ he hissed, knowing that now _el Zorro_ cannot retreat."No matter what happens. I promised to let the blacksmith free. I told nothing about you."

The Fox didn't even flinch, only unfastened his cape, throwing it aside and bared the blade.

"Neither did I ask you for it," he replied calmly stepping into the circle of the lancers.

The conceit of this man was unbearable. Monastario vaguely felt how the rage runs through his veins. Rage even stronger, as he couldn't help involuntarily feeling awe for a man who didn't fear to face him in the middle of his _cuartel_ , surrounded by all his men… Suddenly all his feelings narrowed to one – the necessity to destroy.

"Sergeant!" he yelled to Garcia. "If he defeats me… kill him, even if it would cost my life!"

The sergeant didn't reply, only made a small step back, staring at the _commandante_ with the opened mouth, as if he couldn't recognize him. The lancers froze in scared silence.

Zorro neared a bit, crooking his head and eyed Monastario cautiously, as if finally a bit surprised.

"Don't get so excited, _Capitán_ , it is better to keep a cool head during the fight," he advised slowly. "It was never my intention to bring you into madness."

How dare this man to be so patronizing now? Did he consider it a game of some kind? It was about life and death. _I can ruffle your feathers too,_ thought Monastario vengefully.

"Wait for a moment. And no one moves!" he called and quickly rushed to his office.

He returned carrying the rapier in the black scabbard and threw it to the bandit.

"Something you lost. You may use it now."

"My sword?" exclaimed merrily the Fox, examining the blade. "Now, you solved my problem. It wouldn't be easy for me to have it repaired. How much do I owe you?" Then, however, he became serious and looked at Monastario almost with recognition: "I must say you surprised me, _Capitán_. I didn't expect you to be so chivalrous."

Monastario only smirked.

"This weapon must be very special to you. A gift perhaps? Won't the giver be offended that you tampered with the hilt?" he asked venomously, piercing the bandit with watchful glance.

The Fox's face slowly faded, but he replied lightly:

"It is not the hilt that decides about the value of the weapon, only the blade."

"And it is not the attire that decides the man," retorted Monastario. "Now I am certain that your real identity is known to someone in this pueblo. You feared that they can recognize your identity by this weapon. Still, you were so attached to it that you couldn't resign from using this blade, even risking that it will fail you."

"Perhaps you are right, _Capitán_ , or perhaps not. You shall never know," the Fox spoke calmly, but his tone was not merry anymore, so Monastario continued with dark satisfaction:

"If you are a sporting man, _el Zorro_ , we may take another wager. If you manage to take this sword out of the _cuartel_ , you may keep it. Otherwise, you will tell me whose gift was so dear to you," suddenly losing the rest of his control, he hissed hatefully: "Before I destroy you, I will make you watch everyone close to you pay for your deeds."

The Fox looked at the ground under his feet and slowly drew a small circle with the peak of the blade. The circle was perfectly round.

"I do not accept this wager," he replied softly after a while.

Monastario shrugged his shoulders, not sure whether his threats managed to take a desirable effect.

"Whatever. When I will see your face, through your identity I will get to your friends."

"You talk so much, _Capitán_. Are you reluctant to start the fight?" the Fox sighed mockingly and moved nearer, exercising the most elegant salute with the blade. So elegant, that it was clearly offensive.

Monastario lurched forward and two Toledo blades clashed with the melodic sound.

The _commandante_ struggled to control himself, realizing that he started the fight too early, before he was composed and concentrated. He had to make up for it now, and he had to do it quickly, as he remembered how skillful an opponent the bandit was. He would certainly use any false move of the _commandante_ to execute a thrust that would find home in his body…

But the Fox didn't attack. He was moving back, all in defensive.

Only after the soldiers surrounding them had to regroup moving back, did Monastario notice that. At first he thought that there was something suspicious about it. He even stopped to charge at his opponent, to check whether he would use the occasion to attack – and he did. Yet, this attack was easy to parry, encouragingly easy. Soon, the Fox was withdrawing again and the lancers kept moving quickly to make their place.

 _So, he is not that good after all. That night he simply had luck… or I had a bad moment. Yes, I am better_ , the triumph sang in Monastario's soul. Now he was barely aware of anything around them, except for his opponent. The blood rushed through his veins so quickly that he barely heard something except for the pulsing in his temple. The fury changed into exhilaration. One more stroke, one successful thrust and the bandit will lie on the ground, moaning with pain.

 _I cannot kill him_ reminded himself Monastario. _Just wound, so that I would still be able to hang him. Oh, why can I kill him only once?_

Still, he didn't manage to give that one successful stroke that would send the black clad man into dust, even if the bandit kept moving back. Finally, they crossed almost the whole yard, nearing to the main gate. Some of the lancers leaned over the huge jambs and the Fox had no more place to withdraw.

In the next second Monastario should finally win.

Well, in the next second.

Strange.

Suddenly, Monastario realized he cannot force his opponent to change their position even an inch. If the Fox made one small step back, it was only to strengthen the blow. Monastario's wrist started to go numb.

The familiar sense of anxiety woke up in him. It was just the same as the last time – slow realization that he may lose the fight… Monastario swallowed anxiously, trying to deafen the arising panic. He caught a glimpse of the lancers, exchanging excited looks and whispers. They didn't seem to be worried, so maybe his situation was not that bad…

His blade flew through the air, landing somewhere under the wall.

"I do not have the time to continue it, so I will not let you take it again," said the Fox, pressing the peak of his blade to Monastario's breast. His breath didn't even speed up much. "Now, your word. Release the blacksmith."

Oh, damn it.

He lost again.

That was… unfair, undeserved. Unacceptable. Still, it was a fact. Monastario's hands were empty and the Toledo blade he enjoyed so much now was pressed to his breast.

Monastario took a few deep breaths, trying to swallow the bitterness of the failure in front of his lancers… and recalculate the situation.

All right. He lost, but Zorro was surrounded by his troops. He will certainly try to use the _commandante_ as the hostage and get out… but it will be enough to divert his attention for a second.

What pity that he lost the fight. Yet, it will still finish the same. With the Fox unmasked and on the gallows.

"Release him," repeated the bandit and there was something very dark in his voice.

Monastario nodded and one of the lancers opened the cell. The blacksmith slowly went outside and hesitated, obviously not sure what to do.

"Go home, my friend," said the Fox. "The _commandante_ won't bother you anymore. Or I will kill him."

 _I wonder how, when you will be hanging from the rope_ thought Monastario snickering in amusement in spite of the blade still pressing at his body.

The blacksmith must have come to the same conclusion, as he looked at the bandit in stern expression.

"I cannot agree that you die because of me, Señor."

"Go home, just take the shortest possible road. Remember, the shortest. Now go!" urged him the Fox, adding with the smile. "By the way, you did great work with this blade. Thank you."

"I did my best. I knew you will get it back, Señor Zorro," replied the man boldly. Monastario jerked forward to get the impudent craftsman, but the Fox's blade kept him on place.

"Your word, _Capitán_ ," he repeated quietly. "Do I have to remind it to you with your blood?"

So, one of the lancers opened the small wicket in the gate and the blacksmith left the _cuartel_ , though he kept glancing behind his back.

Now it was time to deal with the Fox.

"Lower your blade," ordered the _commandante_. "You will not save your life by threatening mine; you are only worsening your situation."

"May I have a last wish?" asked merrily the bandit, definitely not sounding like the man preparing himself for death.

"It is usually granted before the execution," snarled Monastario, suspecting some trick, but then curiosity won. "All right, speak, only quickly!"

To his astonishment the Fox shouted:

"Sergeant Garcia! Move toward the other part of the yard!"

The _commandante_ looked surprised behind. Indeed, the sergeant didn't follow Monastario and his opponent with other lancers, only stood strangely dejected, leaning over the boxes piling near the small side doors to the _cuartel_. Now he raised his head and just stared stunned that the bandit was addressing him.

"Just move!" called the Fox so decisively that the stupefied sergeant quickly throttled joining the other soldiers.

"Now, throw down your weapon," ordered Monastario, confused by the strange behavior of the bandit and more eager to finish this game. He wasn't afraid of the blade that the bandit sill kept pressing to his breast. Zorro won the duel, but lost the battle. If he tried to run the _commandante_ through, dozen of lancers' swords would immediately pierce his body. "You are surrounded. You cannot escape, even if you try to fight."

"One more thing, _Capitán_ ," stated calmly the Fox. "I want you to know that I truly appreciate the efforts of the army when it struggles to protect the safety of the citizens. I don't like being forced to act against the soldiers and I deeply regret that I found no other way…"

"Are you trying flattery now?" asked Monastario in disbelief at this new tone of his opponent. "Nothing will let you get away with the punishment for your crimes. Toss aside your weapon!"

"No, no, you weren't listening, _Capitán_ , and you didn't let me finish," reproached him the bandit shaking his head. "Not flattery, but regret. And not for what I did, but for what I am going to do. I am only consoling myself that the fact I was inspired by your idea will make it easier for you to cope with the consequences…''

Monastario furrowed his brows with sudden anxiety that was caused not by the bandit's words, but by the fact that during this prattle he seemed strangely… distracted. He watched his opponent cautiously. The Fox almost squinted his eyes, tensed and concentrated… and yes, his lips were moving wordlessly, as if he was silently… counting.

"Enough of this! Throw down your weapon!" the _commandante_ ordered sharply and using the distraction of the bandit, jumped back out of reach of his blade. Zorro didn't even try to prevent him from it.

Somewhere behind the _cuartel's_ walls the horse neighed.

The Fox fell on his knees covering his eyes with his left arm

 _What the hell…_ crossed through Monastario's mind as he looked stupefied around.

The wave of the explosion knocked him from his feet, the bang and flash stunning his senses for a moment, till he realized what happened.

The gunpowder in the storage near the side doors, someone just blew it up, just as the _commandante_ planned it some time ago.

"Damn! Don't let him escape!" yelled Monastario trying to stumble to his feet, though so dazed, that he couldn't regain the sense of balance and tell down from up.

Not all the lancers got knocked down by the explosion, but the moment of surprise was enough for the Fox to roll out of the circle of soldiers surrounding him. Those, who managed to stay on their feet, followed him with the bared blades, but the bandit now parried their attacks with his back protected by the walls.

The _commandante_ made a staggering run for his weapon, stumbling over some lancers and rushed toward the fight he rather felt then saw. His hearing was still ringing and under his eyes danced the reflection of the explosion. He saw practically nothing but blurry shadows and barely heard the lancers' shouts and the fire of muskets.

Zorro got somehow to the banister running in front of the entrances to the soldiers' rooms and ran quickly down the wooden platform. Monastario followed him blindly, while the lancers that were happy enough not to look in the direction of explosion in the moment of the flash climbed to the landing from the other side, blocking the bandit's way.

Monastario hardly noticed that the bandit returned into his direction and, though still blinded, charged wildly forward. The Fox didn't parry, only dived somehow under his blade and the _commandante_ for the second time this night got knocked down. For a moment he tried to catch the bandit and pin the him to the ground, but the Fox pushed him away easily, leaped once again on the banister, caught one of the ropes fastened to the _cuartel's_ pole and – having flown with one swift jump over the head of astonished lancers – landed softly on the stable's roof.

"Follow him! No, you idiots," yelled Monastario seeing as the lancers tried to climb to the roof, while the Fox's silhouette already disappeared behind the other side of the roof, "to the horses! After him!"

" _Capitán_! What about this?" While Monastario was jumping on his mount, Sergeant Garcia ran to him pointing to the still smoking remains of the side doors and storage. The _commandante_ looked a bit unconsciously around. Luckily, his vision slowly returned.

"Stay and take care about it. But first get the man who lit the fuse!" he ordered and, not losing time for opening the gate, rushed his horse toward the smoldering hole. The stallion protested, rearing with fear at the heat and the strokes of fire, but Monastario only pulled the reins and hit spurs into the animal's sides.

So, the white horse jumped over the debris into the night outside the _cuartel_ and Monastario sharply swerved him to the direction of the black rider disappearing at the end of the street.

The lancers followed him and the chase began.

In a few seconds they were outside the pueblo. It was still dark, yet the night was cloudless and the moonlight clearly framed the silhouette of the Fox, glittering over his shirt and smooth sides of his mount. Monastario rose in stirrups and urged his horse, all in the wild gallop. Cool air hissing around his face was strangely soothing, bringing the turmoil of his mind into control. As long as he had the bandit within his sight, the case was not lost.

Unfortunately, as he regained the ability to assess the situation, he couldn't not notice that the distance between them was growing. What kind of devil's beast was that bandit riding? Monastario loved horses, his white cost him a fortune and was the swiftest in this part of California… Still, he seemed to be losing to this black monster.

Suddenly the Fox turned abruptly leaving the highway, jumping somewhere over the dense bushes growing on its side. Monastario followed him, forcing his mount to the same maneuver. The horse obeyed, yet he felt how the animal stumbled and shivered uncertainly after the spring, whereas the black ahead of them continued to flit between and over rocks and thickets with the grace unwonted by any animal bred by man.

 _This horse is worth as much gold as he weighs,_ Monastario couldn't help reluctant admiration. _Speedy as wind and in addition a jumper. How could the bandit come into possession of such animal?_

The black rider was maneuvering now like the real fox with the hounds on his tale, unceasingly changing the direction in abrupt turns, disappearing in each second behind the trees and stones. Monastario blinked and strained his sight, in order not to lose him after one of these wild swerves. Moonlight stopped being his ally, now playing jokes with his eyes, casting shadows and spots, hindering to locate the chased bandit. Suddenly, he realized that in a place where he hoped to see the glitter of black attire, were only leaves shining in the glow… and he had no idea which direction the Fox could have taken.

For a moment the _commandante_ just stood helpless in the middle of the night, unexpectedly quiet and empty, trying to hear the tramp… but he heard only the snorting of his own tired mount. When finally the hoof-beats neared in the air, they were only the lancers that caught up with him at last.

"Spread and search! He cannot be far!" ordered Monastario, yet deep inside already knowing that they won't see the Fox anymore this night.

The bitterness of failure, total failure, floated over him. How could he let this man to trick him so easily? When this night began, he held all the trumps, now his hands were empty again.

The _commandante_ heard the shouts of the lancers combing through the terrain, but he himself barely moved, chewing anger and frustration.

No, no. Monastario refused to acknowledge that he was cheated like a child. There had to be some way, something he still could do. He called for men to rally and looked around.

"Where in the hell are we?" he asked sharply and one of the lancers, bred in Los Angeles, answered:

"On the borders between la Brea and de la Vega ranchos."

De la Vega! True, each time when someone called Zorro's name in the presence of Alejandro, the man almost shivered with fondness for his bandit. It wouldn't be strange if he provided him with shelter. And if so… _Maybe I was wrong to defer dealings with rancheros,_ thought Monastario with unpleasant smile.

"To the hacienda!"

When they reached their aim, the moon faded and the sky slowly started to grey at the east, revealing the sharp contours of rocky hills surrounding them. The first servants of the hacienda already started to bustle around the household. Monastario ordered his men to surround it and in company of a few lancers rushed through the gate. It was not barred, so someone must have already used it today. The _commandante's_ heart beat stronger with hope.

"Fetch your master," he ordered to a scared native servant that peeked at the patio.

"He is not at home…" stuttered shyly the man.

"Not at home? At this hour? And where…"

The door over them crackled loudly and Monastario moved to the stairs leading to the upper part of the building. Young de la Vega, almost unconscious from sleepiness, with tousled hair falling over squinted eyes staggered over the banister:

" _Capitán_ Monastario?" he croaked in a hoarse voice, hardly recognizing the _commandante_. "Forgive me, but visits at such hour… by unrelated acquaintances… are unacceptable."

"It is not the courtesy visit..." started Monastario and froze for a moment. How was it? Daniel? Damián? "Not a social visit, Señor! We are chasing the bandit," he finished with irritation.

"I would never dare to disturb you fulfilling your professional duties… but do they have to interfere with my sleep?" muttered the young man wrapping stronger around him the ornate blue night robe, that each senorita would be happy to possess. Monastario would sooner die than put on something like this.

"Has anyone arrived at the hacienda?"

"I have no idea," de la Vega gasped heavily hiding his eyes from the first sunrays that made their way to the patio.

 _And I've got no time to wait till he wakes himself up,_ bridled Monastario and asked sharply.

"Señor, where is your father? I have the reasons to suspect him of abetting the bandit Zorro."

"He is at the pueblo," the young man swallowed hard and leaned himself at the wall, still unable to keep straight on his legs. "We are having guests… They traveled by night, when it is cooler… So, he rode for them. Not for Zorro. Or any other… creature."

"And you didn't accompany him?" Monastario narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"It is barely dawning!" de la Vega moaned looking at the _commandante_ as if he just went insane. The he rubbed his temple. "If you want to search the hacienda, please do, just don't bother me any longer! Oh, Benito, good that you are here. Show them the house, the stables, everything they want to see," he languidly waved his hand toward the anxious _caporal_ that appeared on the patio. " _Capitán_ , just tell your lancers to behave quiet and stay away from my room!" he finished with obvious irritation and retreated to his quarter, slamming the door behind him.

 _Well, well, the sleeping prince can get moody while defending his rest…_ thought Monastario amused and a bit surprised.

Suddenly he stiffened. Stay away from his room? Was it possible that it was… an act?... Overtaken by suspicion he jumped up the stairs.

"I'd like to see your room, Señor," he said sharply, opening the door.

"Oh, Heavens. Please, it is my room. See it," sighed de la Vega heavily, leaning himself on the wall and Monastario stepped inside, for a moment certain that in a second he will meet his black clad bandit.

Yet everything he saw was the usual room of the rich hacienda, with big mantelpiece, dark wooden furniture, disheveled covers on the bed and piles of books and notes everywhere. On the wall hung the portrait of a dark haired beauty with the baby on her lap and the _commandante_ fleetingly wondered if that was Alejandro's wife and the toddler she was holding - his now quite grown-up son. The shutters were carefully closed, but the light coming through the doors was enough to show that the room was empty.

Monastario felt very stupid, not at his intrusion, but at the fact that for a short while he felt so sure that the Fox will be hiding in this room. _What happens to my reason?_ he lamented silently.

"If you want to search for your bandit in the wardrobe, or under the bed, or in the mantelpiece, don't hesitate, just be swift about it," muttered ironically de la Vega shifting to a more comfortable position and closing his eyes, obviously ready to fall asleep on his feet.

"Good night, Señor, and don't worry, there is still plenty of time till the tavern opens, you will manage to rest before the next straining day of yours," retorted maliciously Monastario and left.

* * *

Descending the stairs to the patio, where his men, uncertain whether they should search the household, stood with the _caporal_ , Monastario mechanically corrected his uniform… with surprise noticing some dark stains at his jacket.

Blood.

The _commandante_ froze and quickly moved his hands over his ribs and arms… but he was not hurt. Even Zorro's blade didn't cut his skin. So how… He recreated the night's events – and the only moment that could explain it was when he and the bandit for a moment wrestled on the stairs in the _cuartel_.

So, the Fox was wounded. Monastario struggled to recall as much from the night's battle as possible… but he couldn't recall the bandit moving with anything less than his usual cat's grace…

 _Yet most likely it is his blood…_ he thought with pensiveness. Apparently, even the elusive Fox cannot tease all the lancers in the middle of the _cuartel_ unpunished.

Actually this notion was of no direct value. The wound could not have been fatal, as Zorro was still able to lose the pursuit in the mad gallop. The _commandante_ didn't even know how and where the man was wounded.

Yet, it made Monastario… calm down.

 _So, at least I know he can be hurt, both in body and in soul._ _My words about his kin struck the chord, even if he tried to hide it. He can be hurt, because he is no more than a man._

All the dark desperation, all obsession that clenched his mind and soul slowly faded, giving place to his usual cold calculation. His enemy was sly, handy with weapon and lucky in fight… but all luck has its limits. And the _commandante_ was cunning too.

 _I was bordering at madness this night_ , Monastario suddenly realized with all clarity. _It cannot repeat. I must hold the grip on myself. The Fox can be hurt and he can be caught._

* * *

Having returned to the _cuartel,_ Monastario followed de la Vega's example and threw himself into the bed. Around noon he was awakened by the hammers clattering on the yard: Sergeant Garcia didn't of course manage to find Zorro's helper who lit the fuse, yet he cleaned the yard from the ashes and debris and he installed new doors to the side gate. Now the workers started to rebuild the small storage. Luckily, the _cuartel's_ walls weren't damaged by the explosion, so everything should soon return to its previous state.

 _Still, that is always an occasion to impose some special tax, to cover the losses,_ thought Monastario serenely and exited the _cuartel_ , noticing with slight surprise that lancers even more carefully than usual avoided getting into his sight. Sergeant Garcia, who supervised the repairs and urged the workers with loud shouts, having noticed the _commandante_ , disappeared like the mist on the windy day. _Well, they did put on a good show of incompetence…_ admitted Monastario, but decided to postpone the eventual punishment, instead enjoying the sunny day.

The _commandante_ looked lazily around. As usual in the market day, the plaza was bubbling with people crowding between stalls, buying, selling, shouting, quarrelling… He noticed de la Vega's carriage pushing between the crowd on the plaza and the _cuartel's_ walls and smirked, recalling his morning encounter with Alejandro's son. The boy was now sitting by the side of his father, holding the reins, and though dandy as usual, looked rather miserable. Apparently the wake-up at dawn must have cost him a lot. Monastario cast at him malicious glance… and froze.

Even if he saw in that carriage the Fox himself, he wouldn't be so stunned as with the view of the person sitting on the back seat.

It was the woman. Young and pretty. Very pretty. No, not pretty. She was just precious. Stunning.

It took no more than few seconds till the carriage passed by him, but the _commandante_ managed to notice everything – dark curls framing the fair face, glittering eyes, merry smile and the most shapely figure in colourful dress.

Monastario stood dazed for a moment, until he realized that the carriage is already a few yards away, stopping in the nearby shadow. His mind started to work quickly – if he goes to the de la Vegas and starts some conversation, Alejandro will be forced to introduce him to the girl. He moved fast toward them, straightening and correcting his uniform.

Unfortunately, as soon as the carriage halted, the girl exclaimed joyously something like 'The market!' and dived into the stalls with such ardour, that the elderly woman accompanying her barely managed to get out of the seat and follow her. Monastario got to the carriage only to hear the young de la Vega saying quietly:

"Father, why don't you show them around in the pueblo, and I will wait here for you with Bernardo?"

"Diego, if you think that I have organized this escapade so that I would accompany the ladies and you Bernardo, you are deeply mistaken," replied his father sneeringly. "Now, don't be rude."

"Father, it is hot and today I just do not feel…" the young man kept complaining, but Alejandro cut him off with one reproachful glance.

"Diego."

"Yes, Father, I am going," Alejandro's son gave up and started slowly to crumble out of the carriage. "Oh, good morning, _Capitán_ ," he said noticing Monastario and lightly jumped to the ground. "So we meet again."

"Monastario? Do you want something? Something you forgot during your morning visit?" Alejandro asked harshly. "Because if not I have business to attend."

"I was just passing by," the _commandante_ replied with dignity and turned on the spot, not having at the moment the head to quarrel with de la Vega. Luckily, he spotted Sergeant Garcia under the _cuartel's_ gate, watching the crowd under the tavern with wistful expression.

"Sergeant? Have you seen the señorita who arrived with de la Vegas?" Monastario asked trying to sound casual. "Do you know whom she may be? I have never seen her at the pueblo before."

The sergeant at first stiffened at the voice of his _commandante_ , but then, hearing the question, relaxed.

"Oh, yes," he nodded. "Señorita Peréz, she arrived today with her father. They are the guests at the de la Vega hacienda. They arrived at the morning, when you were still chasing Zorro, _Capitán_ , so you didn't meet them."

"True, de la Vega told me something about the guests," muttered Monastario. "How long are they going to stay?"

"I don't know, they spoke about couple of weeks. But," the sergeant giggled jovially, "I have heard some gossips. It is said that both Don Alejandro and Señor Peréz promise themselves much after that visit. Who knows, perhaps the señorita is going to stay longer. Much longer," he winked pointing at the young de la Vega, who just caught up with his pretty guest and started to show her around the stalls.

"Oh. So, that's… Oh," Monastario almost gasped with disappointment. If the fathers already made arrangements… "And the young one, what does he think about it? I mean, about the señorita?" he asked with a shadow of hope remembering how reluctant Alejandro's son was to take care about the girl.

"I don't know, _Capitán_ …" Garcia shook his head. "I only know that I wouldn't hesitate long in his place…" he sighed staring at the pretty figure in the bright dress.

"Neither would I. Nor even a second…" echoed him Monastario, leaning on the wall near the sergeant and sending the wistful glance in the same direction.

* * *

Pina for a moment froze in confusion furrowing his eyebrows, as he saw Monastario and Garcia staring at Diego de la Vega with blissful expressions. Then he followed their glance once more and finally spotted some girl accompanying the young man.

 _Oh, really,_ he muttered impatiently and went his way, trying not to get too near to Monastario. He even preferred not to imagine in which mood the _commandante_ must be after his last failure, especially that it has been so… public.

Still, Monastario noticed him.

" _Licenciado_! Can we talk?" he called quite calmly and, obviously reluctant to leave such suitable observing post, turned to Garcia. "Sergeant, you are free now. If you want you may go to the tavern."

"I am afraid I may not," muttered the lancer, this time sending the longing glance directly to the young de la Vega, who, occupied by his pretty companion, certainly didn't intend to visit the tavern and drink with lancers this time.

So, Garcia made a few uncertain steps forward and stopped, not sure what to do. In this moment he was approached by a group of some merchants, bowing with their hats in their hands, who very humbly asked him to give them the honour of his company by dinner. The sergeant chocked with surprise, but didn't hesitate much. As they headed for the tavern, Pina heard them asking shyly, whether last night _el Zorro_ left the _cuartel_ disappearing under ground in lightings and flames or changing into a bat that flew away into the night's sky.

The _licenciado_ neared cautiously to Monastario, who in surprisingly good humour watched the crowd with the wide grin.

"Have you seen that girl?" he pointed at the companion of the young de la Vega

"Yes, young and pretty, there are dozens of such in California," replied Pina obliviously, but then remarked a bit cutting: "Still, it is good that you managed to notice someone not wearing the black mask."

The _commandante_ only shifted a bit, and remained silent so long, that Pina was almost ready to say good bye and leave, when Monastario finally spoke again.

"As for our last conversation, _Licenciado_... I am cautious. You must agree I had every right to be suspicious about you. However, I did you no harm," he muttered surprisingly faintly and Pina froze in disbelief realizing that it was the closest thing to an apology he could ever hear from Monastario.

"So, do you finally believe me?"

"I am cautious," Monastario repeated only, yet added almost consolingly: "But the end of this bandit is near. Last night he managed to escape, but I think he was wounded. Next time he may have even less luck."

Pina understood that it would be better not to continue this subject, only enjoy the small truce they made. Besides, he had something to report.

"I heard the rumours that the _cabildo_ is going to issue the next complaint for you to the governor. This time a bit more elaborate one. They calculated the taxes for maintenance of the _cuartel_ … and estimated expenditures… and…"

"Oh, don't bother yourself with it," Monastario only shrugged his shoulders. "It is a common practice that officers arrange some addition to the payroll."

"And… how high this addition may be?" asked quietly Pina not sharing his optimism.

"Your pay is in it," Monastario cut him rather coldly. "But I assure you, no one in Monterey is going to pay attention to it. There aren't so many officers willing to take the post as such, so as long as I am effective…"

Pina silenced, but the self-confidence of his superior didn't dispel his doubts.

True, many things were tolerated as long as the officer proved effective. However, now Monastario's incapacity to deal with the lonely bandit became more and more public. If the Fox decides to do something that will utterly discredit the _commandante_ , someone in Monterrey may finally find it suitable to look at the _cabildo's_ complains with more consideration…

 _And I wonder who was so obliging and patient to go through all these financial records,_ thought Pina sneeringly, looking in the direction of the young de la Vega. _Not any of these hot-headed old fools from the cabildo, I am sure!_

Oh, why do the troubles always have to appear in pairs? And yes, that young one was trouble, no matter what Monastario said and how much he laughed at him. The man does not need to carry the weapon by his side to be dangerous. He may quarrel with his father, but gets along well with the _alcalde_. All their claims and petitions normally would be harmless, but now, with the Fox proving Monastario's incompetence at each occasion…

 _Why did it all have to happen in the same time, this nosey bookworm and this damn Fox!_ Pina bridled with quiet irritation… and suddenly felt very, very weak at the idea that crossed though his mind.

Oh, well.

His legs went slightly feeble, so the _licenciado_ looked down to make sure that he stays still on the solid ground. Then he absently kicked a small stone.

But certainly that serene, friendly man couldn't be the black bandit who appeared in Pina's quarters and threatened him with the blade?

The _licenciado_ kicked the stone back.

 _Of course that he could,_ he thought coldly.

The friendlier the man was, the more suspicions he should awake – that was what he thought when he saw the young man for the first time… and perhaps he should have stuck to this thought.

No, no. It was impossible. De la Vega might be wise and witty, but his wisdom was taken from books. He was a scholar, not adventurer.

Or maybe he loved adventures so much that he turned his whole life into one.

Pina shook his head in confusion. Sometime ago one of his acquaintances, freshly arrived from the long travel, showed him a kind of Scottish optic toy, a circle of mirrors containing loose beads and pebbles. As the viewer looked into it, reflections composed colourful, complicated patterns, changing with the slightest move into a new combination, when the pebbles rolled on the mirror. One could get giddy at the rapid changes of the colourful pictures…

Pina had a feeling of looking in such device right now, as the pieces of the information twirled in his head, instantly creating new patterns.

_He is clever._

_He never even raises a voice to anyone. He hates violence._

_No. He says he hates violence._

_He is a de la Vega. Alejandro's son would never lie._

_Probably._

_He is always so polite and friendly to everyone…_

_Even to Monastario, who is his father's worst enemy. No one can have so much control… unless he has good reason to control himself._

Pina helplessly shook his head once more, lost in contradictory emotions. He needed something more… something more to decide. As he desperately recalled everything he knew about the Fox, searching for anything that would strengthen or dispel his new suspicions, suddenly he recalled Monastario's last words about the bandit. If he really got wounded…

The _licenciado_ leaned to Monastario and said quietly:

"Go there, toward de la Vega and… run into him."

"What?" the _commandante_ was so surprised that he tore his eyes from the girl and stared at Pina in confusion.

"Hit him accidentally, push him, something like this, I will be watching him," Pina urged him hectically a bit louder. "Just go, I will explain later."

Monastario snorted, but dived into the crowd while Pina, feverish and nervous, fixed his gaze upon the young man, determined not to lose him from sight for even a second. It wasn't easy, de la Vega strolled with the girl from one stall to another, watching the goods, talking with merchants… Pina shifted and climbed to his toes, cautiously following him with scrutinizing gaze. If he really is wounded… he won't be able to refrain from some display of pain…

Pina observed the young man so intensely, that his eyes almost began to run, when suddenly his concentration was disrupted by the loud commotion just behind de la Vega. Involuntarily, the _licenciado_ looked at this direction… just to see two men awkwardly crumbling on the ground between the stalls. Monastario and… de la Vega's deaf and mute servant.

 _And this one keeps popping out from each corner, like the jack from the box!_ Pina almost cursed, the pebbles in his head beginning to arrange in the picture of the masked rider.

De la Vega turned back, startled by the noise behind him, and politely reached his hand to Monastario to help him stand.

The picture of the black rider started to disperse, yet Pina sent the silent message to the _commandante_ : _Take his hand! Lean on him!_

But in this moment the girl started to giggle at the scene and Monastario, furious and confused, got on his feet without using any help. Then he rushed toward the scared servant, probably ready to hit him for his clumsiness, but he was blocked by the young de la Vega… carefully brushing off the dust from his uniform.

The pebbles in Pina's head went crazy.

Monastario returned to him almost red with anger.

"Now, what was it all about?" he snarled, fighting with the dark stains on his formerly spotless trousers.

"I was wondering whether he could be…" the _licenciado_ started with hesitation and finished weakly. "Well, that he might be the Fox."

"Who?" Monastario started at him blankly.

"The Fox. Zorro," repeated Pina a bit stronger.

"That I heard, but who are you talking about?"

"Diego de la Vega."

Monastario blinked a few times and snorted with irritation.

"Is it another of your desperate tries to draw my attention, _Licenciado_?"

Pina took deep breath, struggling to order the mess in his head.

"He suits all the clues you gathered about the Fox. He is young, tall and slim, he arrived recently… and he is always near everything that happens in the pueblo."

Monastario started to laugh.

"Yes, _Licenciado,_ that's all truth, that all suits perfectly. Apart from the one small inconsistency: that the Fox uses the steel blade, not the walking stick!"

"And how can you know that de la Vega is not using the walking stick during the day and the steel blade at night?" retorted Pina, though rather weakly.

"Only someone like you, _Licenciado_ , with no idea about physical struggle, could say something so awkward," commented Monastario still laughing. "The Fox is the man used to violent ways, not shy to deal the blow, whereas this one… he is just… no more than a courteous jellyfish!"

The _commandante's_ eyes shined with amusement, as he enjoyed his comparison and when he saw that Pina only shook his head unconvinced, he exclaimed impatiently: "Everyone knows he cannot fight!"

"All I know is that he says he does not fight and that no one saw him fight," muttered Pina.

"So, just look at him. He even doesn't know how to keep the blade," Monastario pointed at de la Vega, who was just staying by the stall with the swords and rapiers.

The young man took one of the blades and kept it in such manner that he managed simultaneously to endanger his own eyes and the stall-keeper's throat. The vendor quickly took the weapon from his hands and the girl accompanying him burst out with giggle again, taking another blade herself and showing her companion how it should be handled. Yet, her laughter was merry, not mocking and when she showed off with the rapier it was obviously not to sneer at him, but rather to better present her figure. Pina couldn't recognise whether it made a desirable effect at the young de la Vega, but judging from Monastario's rapturous expression, such view certainly worked on him.

Pina was unmoved by the both shows, neither of de la Vega, nor of the girl.

"Certainly the one who knows how to keep the sword, knows also how not to keep it," he only said coldly.

Monastario kept silent for a moment. Apparently, Pina's words for the first time made some impression of him. However, after the moment of consideration he sighed unconvinced.

"Don't you know people at all, _Licenciado_? He is from the old noble family, a hidalgo… Man of his station would never disgrace himself with the bandit's mask! I agree, that if he were like his father he could gather men, start rebellion, attack openly, true, but…"

"Rebellion?" Pina got into this word and spoke hectically. "And if he started rebellion, you would execute him, his men and his father, as the traitor and the traitor's helpers. Even if they would defeat you, another officer would come and then another, till they would finally lose. The result would be always the same: the men killed, the family name shamed and their lands seized."

Monastario only nodded in agreement, evidently satisfied with the order of things in California.

"So, maybe he wasn't interested in such result," concluded slowly Pina and added conciliatorily: "I am not saying that he is _el Zorro._ I am only suggesting that we shouldn't exclude such possibility."

The _commandante_ for a moment considered his words, and suddenly gave up waving his hand.

"All right. I will arrest him. Then we will see," he said looking around in search for some lancers.

"Wait, on what charges?" Pina almost grabbed Monastario's arm, but then thought better and only stepped in front of him. "You have no proof. If you at least knew how the Fox was wounded… but you don't and even if de la Vega is hurt in any way… he will certainly give some credible and innocent explanation."

"Personally, I wouldn't be surprised if he hurt himself with the spoon eating dinner…" snorted Monastario, "but nevertheless I will arrest him. At least it will put him out of the way for some time," he said dreamily.

"You will only give him a warning! He will lie himself out and be more careful in the future!" exclaimed Pina almost with desperation and, seeing the unpleasant glitter in Monastario's eyes, added warningly: "He is not some miserable vaquero. If you mistreat him without any proof and he turns out to be innocent, all the other dons will make so much noise that it may be heard even in Spain."

Monastario nodded, even if slowly and very reluctantly. Unfortunately each power had its limits, even his power over the pueblo and its citizens.

"We need proof that he is someone other than he claims to be," continued Pina calmer. "For example, as it evokes so much of your doubts, that he is hiding his fighting skills."

"I may call him out. I assume such fight would look good for me," said eagerly Monastario, his eyes again running toward the bright figure of the pretty señorita.

"No, he would never accept the challenge. It must be… it must be… Please, _Capitán,_ stop staring at this girl and come to my office, we must discuss it."

"You really are serious about it!" exclaimed the _commandante_ , finally looking straight at Pina.

"Yes, I am," nodded the _licenciado_ seriously. "Let's go."


End file.
